


Double Cross

by TheProducersHat



Category: The Producers (1968), The Producers (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProducersHat/pseuds/TheProducersHat
Summary: Leo has finally got everything he wanted in life: a career of a Broadway producer, a loyal partner and more friendships than he could ever wish for. But what happens when things don't go as you had expected? What if your past mistakes catch up with you? And how do you make the right decision, when it's against everything you've ever achieved?
Relationships: Max Bialystock/Leopold "Leo" Bloom, Roger De Bris/Carmen Ghia
Comments: 19
Kudos: 8





	1. Hard Day's Night

_**A/N:** _ _Sooo, after some plotting and consideration, I've decided to write my first long story... Let's see how it goes! xD Enjoy the first chapter and lemme know what you think! ^^_

* * *

It's been a hell of a day at the Shubert theatre. And it wasn't even noon yet.

Sitting slumped behind the table in front of the stage, Leo stretched his already aching neck wearily, looking down at his watch. 6 more hours to go. He fought the urge to groan at the mere thought. Usually, they would be done long before dinner time, early enough to enjoy a little bit of evening sun while walking home. But those were hardly usual conditions.

At the height of a production, everyone going crazy was nothing out of the ordinary. As a matter of fact, it would shock him if they got through a single technical week without Roger storming off the stage melodramatically at least once. Or without Carmen and the rest of the crew following him frantically, joining in with their own proclamations of dissatisfaction in a chattery batch of chaos.

No, this was certainly nothing surprising, and being completely honest with himself, Leo loved to watch these little charades; it at least brought some entertainment into these stressful days. The problem laid elsewhere and it was nothing like the common issues him and Max had to deal with on a regular basis up until now.

This time, it was them against the nature. Autumn made itself known in its full power, when half of the cast had been taken down by a sudden outbreak of the flu last week. At first, it had been just a few members of the crew and several chorus girls they could easily replace. But then, as the weather outside grew gradually colder, important people like the lead actors, spotlight operators and even producers had been affected, too. The last part was especially troublesome for Leo. Personally, he'd been lucky enough to make it through this accursed epidemic unscathed still. Max, not so much. The worst part was, it had probably been his fault.

Earlier that week, Leo had insisted on taking the long way home from work, just so that he could get some fresh air after a particularly long day that had got his anxiety levels shooting through the roof. Little did he know that had only been the beggining. The first part of the walk had been ideal; Max had managed to lift his spirits by making fun of the day's events, carelessly laughing and imitating yet another of Roger's infamous fits. They had even stopped to order take out for the evening, as both men had been starving at that point. A change only came as the sky had darkened and the first drops of the usual autumn rain began to fall. Heaven knows that Leo hated to be caught in the rain no matter the situation, but combined with the chilly evening temperature and a storm beggining to rumble in the distance, it had been hell. By the time they had reached home, he'd been shivering like a leaf, spending the rest of the night wrapped in wool blanket to battle the chills. Max, on the other hand, had simply jested about Leo's sensitivity, changed into dry clothes and went right to sleep. "Come on, you're not made of sugar. You won't melt!" He had simply exclaimed, patting Leo's back forcefully before retiring to his room.

And now, several tiring days later, Leo had finally managed to convince Max to stay home and recover, even if it meant loads of extra work for Leo. As much as he wished to be with his partner while he felt unwell, it just wasn't possible, especially in this advanced stage of putting on a show. And besides, he felt more comfortable knowing that the sickness wouldn't spread among other workers; it was complicated enough to keep the production going as it was. At this rate, he was likely doomed to fall ill sooner or later too. They just had to hope it will be the latter.

Nonetheless, there was no point in feeling sorry for himself, or for Max, for that matter. There was work urgently waiting to be done and he'd just wasted precious time by staring into space and contemplating his rotten luck. So, setting his glasses down for a moment to rub his eyes, Leo leaned back a little to get a better overlook on all the papers sprawled across the desk. This was a mess. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't focus on one thing for longer than a few minutes, before yet another crew or cast member interrupted his train of thought, demanding his opinion on often unnecessary things. They were all just as nervous as him, Leo knew, but this was spiralling out of control. He couldn't imagine how Max ever managed to work without a partner.

As if that wasn't enough, all the accounting was his responsibility, too. He had always served as both an accountant and a producer; more often than not, it was more the former anyway. But now, with Max's unexpected absence, it all came crashing down on his head. Thinking of Max... It weighed down on his mind constantly, even though he was aware it was not something he should worry about now. Everyone fell ill once in a while, but it just wouldn't leave him be, for he knew that if it was him being sick, he'd want Max to be with him. At least in the beginning. But he also knew what Max was like; he wouldn't let anyone fuss over him and tended to take it pretty lightly. Thinking of which, he hoped he didn't go outside despite Leo ordering him not to. It sounded like it was raining outside...

"Everything swell?"

Leo jumped in his seat upon hearing an unexpected voice next to him, banging his knee against the table in the process.

"Ow, God damn it!" He cursed a little too loudly, causing several actors to turn and look at him in mild shock. Leo never cursed.

"Ah gosh, my apologies," he heard an all-too-familiar voice giggle. Leo finally inspected the person sitting to his right, while holding one hand against his racing heart.

"Jesus, Carmen," he began warily, but then had to laugh at himself too. "Give me a little warning next time, could you?"

"A little warning?" Carmen squealed incredulously, "I said hi and noisily pulled the chair across the floor... Need me to blow a whistle next time? Or sound the horn? I could take your blanket, too... Would you notice that?" He elegantly rested his chin on his hands then, looking at Leo with those observant dark eyes and a typical smirk plastered on his face.

"Haha," Leo couldn't resist a smile of his own at his friend's ever-present cockiness. He could clearly tell that he was merely trying to amuse him, though. "Alright, you got me. Congratulations, I'll be sure to get you a raise for that... So what can I do for you in these trying times?"

"Trying times?" Carmen raised an eyebrow, looking extremely satisfied with himself that moment.

"Well..." Leo only managed to mumble with a fading smile. Of course Carmen noticed. How could he not, after all? He had practically looked through him when he tried to address him.

"I see," Carmen simply replied with that unrelenting smile. He knew Leo would talk to him without being prompted.

"It's just this," Leo confessed after a short pause. "I wasn't prepared for such a mess. It all went so smoothly up until last week. How could have we predicted this would happen? A few actors dropping out, sure... But this? Nothing is certain and... It just kind of stresses me out, you know?" He raised his head then, giving Carmen a small reassuring smile. He shouldn't have to worry about this on top of everything, Leo knew him and Roger had a lot to deal with, too. Producers and directors. Always the most responsible ones for the outcome of a show.

"We've got understudies," Carmen offered calmly.

"For most of them, yes. But do they know their roles properly? No, not really. And what about the lead? Both she and her understudy are out... What are the odds?" Leo complained without really wanting to. He just couldn't stop himself.

"One of them will surely recover before the opening night," Carmen pointed out.

"What if they won't?" Leo disagreed.

"What if they will?"

"They'll miss tech week."

"So? Look at this, no one's doing anything productive anyway... They won't miss much, really." Thus Carmen leaned back against his chair, observing the scene onstage and never losing his smile. It unnerved Leo a bit, he had to admit.

"Yes well, that's the problem... No one's doing anything. And I don't know what to do, either. Max would know..." Leo added a little sadly, staring blankly at one of the unfinished books.

"Ha!" Carmen suddenly sat upright again, a sparkle appearing in his eyes.

"What?" Leo asked a little uncertain.

"I knew this was about him." He crossed his arms defiantly, that smirk only growing.

"It isn't..."

"Is too," Carmen waved his hand dismissively, as if he needed no clarification. "So what is it? You miss his professional guidance? You could always ask him once you're home, though, so... No. That isn't it. Hm," he supported his head with both hands again, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Carmen..." Leo just said helplessly, but the smile was infectious.

"Oh, I got it!" He turned to Leo again, his teasing smile softening. "You worry. Cause that's just what you do. Am I right?"

"Touché," Leo confirmed. Geez, this guy could be persuasive if he wanted. He wouldn't want him to be any other way, though. However, as much as he appreciated Carmen's well-intented attempts, he wasn't quite in the mood. And his head felt like exploding, for lack of a better word.

"Aw, come on," Carmen's voice changed from jesting to rather empathetic. He must have felt the little change in Leo's spirits. "Everything's gonna be fine. And Max? When has anything ever taken him down? I bet you 5 dollars, by the time you're home, you'll have found him dancing in the kitchen, making himself pancakes... Cause that's all that he can make, you know," he finished with a pleased smile.

But it worked. Imagining such a sight, Leo laughed sheepishly, covering his mouth with one hand and curling his head closer to his chest. He always knew just what to say to cheer him up and suddenly Leo felt guilty for having been cranky. This was Carmen, after all. The cheerfulness just radiated off of him wherever he went.

"Alright, but seriously," Carmen continued after regaining composure again. "It will work out, somehow." He winked at him, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "Don't tell him, but Roger is a little... irritable, too. In case you haven't noticed, of course. And honestly? I can't blame him. Or you, for that matter. We're all stressed and overworked and uncertain. But why make it any harder than it is? I know you can handle this with grace. And besides, you're doing great; no one's killed anybody yet, they've argued only several times... Really, this is normal." He nudged Leo playfully, his jesting tone returning. He made it sound so easy. Although it was refreshing to hear someone staying positive and above things while everyone else went berserk.

"I guess..." Leo merely shrugged, his smile being genuine this time. "Thank you. What would I do without all of you here?"

"Probably have a moment of peace," Carmen joked, hopped up from his seat and outstretched one hand towards Leo gracefully. "So, up with you!"

"What?" Leo stared at the hand dumbly. "Why?"

"We're going to Neverland," Carmen rolled his eyes half-heartedly. Leo just continued looking up at him incomprehensively, not moving an inch. "Roger wants to talk to you," he finally explained with a sigh.

"Oh..." Somehow that little fact made his mood drop again. Maybe a part of him hoped that Carmen had come to talk to him just for the sake of talking, not in the name of yet another responsibility. He didn't know what had he expected, though. No one had time to pointlessly gossip during this period. "Of course," he offered a tight smile, striding past Carmen to get to the stage.

"Wait!" Carmen jumped after him in one dance-like movement, "I better come with you."

"You don't have to," Leo dismissed him shyly as he climbed up the few steps leading to the stage, avoiding the eyes of people he passed. He knew they were watching him keenly, for everyone wanted to know what was going on between the producer and the director. Even more so in a situation like this.

Taking a deep breath, Leo proceeded towards Roger warily, with Carmen following him like a stray cat, faithfully by his side. There were dancers stretching on the floor, some already going over their routine, some just idly standing around and waiting for directions.

And there was music coming from every corner. Singers practicing, accompanists playing and the orchestra tuning their diverse instruments, creating an unpleasant disharmony that bellowed through the entire theatre. On top of that, everyone was talking over each other; and from what Leo could overhear, they were no pleasant conversations. It certainly didn't make his headache any better.

Among that chaos stood Roger, one hand on his hip while the other stroked through his hair repeatedly, as he often did when exasperated.

He was obviously in the middle of a discussion with a very agitated-looking young woman who was gesturing wildly, her loud complaints raising above all the other voices. There were several actors standing around the heated pair, joining in with their own opinions. And it looked like they were all against Roger.

Leo gulped. This was not good. He knew how much the director hated to be corrected, let alone be berated by a group of distressed young actors who didn't even understand the complexity of the situation yet. He could feel his heartbeat rising as he came closer to the scene, reminding himself who he was doing this for. Usually that was something Max would deal with in a blink of an eye, for he knew his way around Roger by now and the cast respected him immensely. But now that he couldn't be here, it was Leo's job to step in for him. So, after a moment of consideration he straightened up and stepped forward, clearing his throat soundly to get their attention.

No one even turned. It was as though they were all looking right through him, not acknowledging his presence in the slightest. Leo was just about to speak up when one of the dancers jostled him roughly as he stormed away, probably unable to listen to that nonsense any longer. Leo just looked after him incredulously, but the guy didn't even bother to turn. He just kept going, apparently not listening to a word as his co-workers attempted to persuade him to stay, but it was in vain. As soon as he reached the nearest entrance, he went right through it, shutting the door after him noisily. Leo winced at the loud sound, cursing inwardly. Great. Another one out. The last thing he needed was Roger snapping and quitting, too. What would he tell Max when he returned and saw that half the company had gone?

"Excuse me," he tried to address them emphatically again, "could I have your attention? _Please_?"

But it was no use. They just continued shouting at each other, probably not even noticing that someone else had spoken. Leo closed his eyes for a moment to suppress the frustration that was steadily building up inside of him, but he knew he had to stay calm. Somebody had to be the voice of reason in times of panic. Funny that it had to be him, of all people. He almost laughed at that thought.

Taking another fortifying breath he turned to Carmen helplessly, begging him to do something with that single look. Taking the hint, Carmen just patted his shoulder encouragingly and pushed him slightly aside to address Roger himself.

"Rog, darling," he said simply, leaning close to his ear so that he'd hear him.

Roger, on the other hand, just turned his head to his direction and frowned slightly, dismissing him with a plain "not now, Carmen."

Taking offense from his disinterest, Carmen let out an aggravated puff and stepped in between the two quarrelers.

"Roger!" He barked at him then, finally putting a stop to that brawl.

At long last, everyone turned to the two of them, expecting an explanation. Carmen just rolled his eyes and gestured to Leo melodramatically, giving him room to speak his mind.

"Oh, um, thank you..." Leo stuttered nervously, suddenly losing his courage from moments ago as they all stood there, staring, waiting for him to interfere. To fix this. However, he collected himself rather quickly and turned to the person he came here for in the first place.

"You wanted to talk to me, Roger?" he asked uncertainly.

"Ah, yes... Leo, darling, I'm afraid this is not the moment-"

"This is exactly the moment!" The young actress suddenly intervened, stepping uncomfortably close to Leo and clinging to his arm as if she expected him to save her. "Mr. Bloom, tell him he's being unreasonable!"

Taken aback, Leo looked from the girl on his arm to Roger, not grasping what was going on. "I... I'm not sure I understand what-"

"She's not doing her job! What's there to understand?" Roger shot, pointing an accusing finger at her.

" _You're_ not doing _your_ job! We're not prepared!" she shouted back. The others joined in, making noises of agreement and nodding vigorously.

"You're the _swing_ , damn it! That's what's expected of you, to be prepared no matter what!"

"Then why did no one prepare us? Why didn't _you_? You promised us the understudy will be ready!"

Roger was fuming. Leo could see that he was close to snapping. He had to do something. Anything.

"Alright, alright... Look, I don't know the story behind this, but Miss... He's, you know, I'm afraid he's right... You _are_ the swing, therefore you should be prepared for situations like these and..." Leo trailed off, hoping that someone else will fill in. Instead there was a moment of unnerving silence while the actors looked at him as though he'd just betrayed them all. Once again he wished that Max would be there with him that moment.

"Oh, you can go to hell, too!" The girl suddenly looked close to tears as she let go of Leo's arm. "No one wants to see the swing! Or the understudy, for that matter... Why don't you just postpone the show? This is hopeless!"

Leo felt his stomach drop at the last part as he recalled Max's words from earlier that day: " _Whatever happens, the show must go on, understand?_ "

No. Rescheduling wasn't an option. He was responsible for the finances just as he was responsible for making sure that this show will make it til opening night as planned. He couldn't disappoint like that after being in charge for barely 3 days.

"With all due respect, I don't think you understand how complicated that is. We'd have to give money back to loads of-"

"Of course!" A tall man joined the dispute. Most probably one of the dancers, but Leo couldn't remember his name. "Who cares about our health when there is money to make, right?"

"I didn't say that..." Leo defended himself, but the uncomfortable tightness in his chest just grew. This was beginning to be overwhelming.

"But you meant it," the man scoffed. "Seriously. Where's the producer, anyway?"

"I am the producer..." Leo said, perplexed.

"I meant the real one. The capable one. No offense, but you should stick to accounting," he jeered, looking at Leo as if he was beneath him. An insignificant accountant.

"Offense taken!" Carmen stepped in then, that exaggerated look of shock on his face. "Leo's kindness isn't your invitation to walk all over him, alright? He could have you fired if he so pleased!"

"Fine! Have me fired, but what then? Can you really afford another performer dropping out?"

After that, it all meddled into one havoc of voices. Roger was shouting at someone who had shouted at Carmen, while Carmen was berating the man who'd shouted at Leo. Soon the whole Debris household was included, some demanding to know what was the turmoil about, some stepping between Leo and a man who was apparently trying to argue with him. But Leo couldn't really hear them. He only noticed how his breath became faster as more and more people gathered around the scene, adding their own opinions and pressing themselves closer so that they could get a better view of the situation. He just wanted them to shut up. All of them.

"Stop it…" Leo tried to put an end to that nonsense, but it came out sounding like nothing more than a whisper. He took a deep breath.

" _I said enough!_ "

The second order cut through the noise like a whip, silencing everyone at once. Even the music halted. There was a moment of shocked stillness, as the people only dared to exchange looks of surprise. Leo shouted rarely, if ever. That was usually Max's and Roger's speciality and more often than not, it meant nothing serious. That was just their way of getting people's attention, fairly necessary to get a point through in such a busy environment. But hearing it from Leo just felt unsettlingly out of place.

"Okay… so, anyway," Carmen began awkwardly to cut the uncomfortable incident short, "I think we should-"

"Lunch break," Leo cut in sharply as if he didn't even hear him. His gaze was fixated on the floor and his hands were obviously shivering at his sides.

Seeing this, Carmen bit his lip and cast a confused look at Roger. The director just nodded shortly, obviously understanding what Carmen wanted from him without having to speak the words.

"Lunch break?" Roger repeated calmly but incomprehensively. He raised a hand to put it on Leo's shoulder, but then thought better of it and let it his arm fall again.

"All of you," Leo continued, still not looking at any of them. "Lunch break, now."

Roger just clasped his hands in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers nervously as he turned to his team for help. They all shrugged in seemingly rehearsed unison.

"Now?" Shirley was the next one who dared to speak up. "But, dear, there's so much work to be done today, and it isn't even lunchtime yet, maybe we-"

"Yes, now." Leo looked up abruptly, causing several people to flinch at the unexpected movement. "We cannot work like this. Please, I just need… I mean, _we_ need a little break… Don't you think?"

Suddenly he didn't sound angry or threatening at all, as his usual timid demeanor returned. It almost seemed as though that very moment, everyone felt guilty for ever having argued, seeing how they managed to push the always peaceful producer to his limit. So, not wishing to oppose him any further, the crowd started to disperse, hesitantly agreeing to take the much needed break.

As the last actors shuffled away, Leo was left on the stage with only the Debris production team behind him. They didn't say anything, though, presumably waiting for him to go have lunch with them. Finally Leo dared to exhale, letting his still aching head fall. This was humiliating. He'd promised himself to stay calm and professional and yet, as soon as someone went directly against him, he lost his composure and sent everyone away just so he wouldn't have to deal with them. Way to go. Max would be oh so proud of him.

He shook his head once to get rid of these thoughts and turned to the troop with a forced but convincing smile.

"I'm sorry. I know you all meant well, disagreements like that are normal. I should have handled it better, but well…," he chuckled, but it came out sounding a little desperate. "What is done is done. So, if you'll excuse me now…"

The team merely exchanged confused looks as they watched the young man stride away without inviting them to follow him. Usually he'd go somewhere with Max for the pause, but without him there, they'd somehow automatically expected him to stick to them. And besides, they didn't really want to leave him alone.

"Honey, where are you going?" Kevin called after Leo, jogging to catch up with him. "Won't you come along with us?

Leo turned in surprise when the fussy costume designer stopped at his side.

"Oh… Well, actually, I thought I will-"

"Kevin," Scott motioned to his friend to come back. "I think he wants to be alone, let the poor boy breathe. Am I right?" He winked at Leo then to assure him that it was alright.

"Thank you," Leo smiled gratefully. "I just need a little while to figure this out… Sorry, Kevin, maybe some other time?" He addressed the short man again, hoping he'll understand.

"Why, of course," Kevin's face seemed to fall for a split second, but then his jovial tone returned as he patted Leo's cheek affectionately. "Take care, then!" Thus he turned on his heel in an almost comical way and hurried back to his roommates.

"And make sure to actually eat!" Shirley added when Leo was almost out the door.

"Yes, mom," he called over his shoulder, having to laugh at how they all fussed over him. It almost seemed like they made it their responsibility to babysit him while Max wasn't watching over him like a hawk every minute of every day. That could have offended him, but it was quite flattering really. He knew how much they actually cared and that was just their way of showing it.

Collecting his leather suitcase full of paperwork and throwing a brown coat over his shoulders carelessly, Leo headed out, leaving the Debris team behind.

"Poor kid," Brian piped up right after the door fell shut behind Leo. "Looks a little stressed, doesn't he?"

"Seriously?" Shirley looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. "Thank you for stating the obvious, genius."

Brian just grimaced at her mockingly, while Carmen rolled his eyes at them. These two, always bickering.

"But you know, maybe they're right…" Roger interjected.

"About what?" Carmen raised an eyebrow questioningly. The rest of the team did the same.

"Maybe we should postpone the show..."

* * *

Soon enough, Leo could spot a tiny café huddled despondent among the huge city buildings; his destination. Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street, but it went unnoticed by most. Glancing up at the overcast sky, Leo pulled his coat closer around himself, fighting against the drizzle. Sparing one quick look at the daily specials written on a chalk board at entrance, he pushed himself against the small glass door.

The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colourful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door fell closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten.

The welcome scent of coffee wafted through the air, almost calling to him to come and rest. Looking around, Leo spotted one vacant metallic table in the far corner of the room and made his way towards it swiftly. It was covered by a simple plastic tablecloth with little red and white checks on it, a small vase of yellow carnation flowers standing in the middle. Taking a seat, he looked around for a waitress; the need for caffeine now consuming his mind.

A tiny woman teetered over in a simple pink dress and a black apron tied around her waist. Her face was fixed into a false smile. She had too much make up on and somehow Leo doubted she could even remember the natural colour of her hair. Not that it bothered him, though. He just wanted his coffee and a moment of peace to look over all the contracts again. Approaching his table, the waitress pulled a pencil from behind her ear and went through the routine questions she probably asked every customer that visited the café. She chewed her gum noisily between each word. Leo placed his order and sighed deeply.

Right now, he wished for nothing more than to devour a coffee with a cherry pie and head directly home, where he'd collapse onto the couch and tell Max everything. Well, maybe not everything. Nonetheless, that had to wait til later. Taking out his reading glasses, he grudgingly opened a payroll journal. He needed to record a new entry, and although he'd filled out these debits and credits tables a thousand times before, it was just tiring. But at least his coffee finally arrived. Taking a careful sip of the steaming beverage, he suddenly realized the royalty payments needed to be reconciled, too. And preferably soon. This was going to be a long day indeed.

Not wasting another moment, he took advantage of the relative privacy he finally had and started filling out the columns at a fast pace. The time seemed to pass quickly and before he knew it, it was nearing the end of this improvised pause. Maybe he could still fill out one more entry, finish his drink and head back to the theatre with a little more energy to deal with the fuss.

Once satisfied with his work, Leo set his cup down, thanked and paid for his order and got up from the table. Putting on his coat and the prized producer's hat, he collected his paperwork and braced himself to step back into the chilly afternoon. Not looking where he was going, though, he collided with an incoming costumer in the doorway.

"Oh! Excuse me, I'm sorry…" Leo apologized profusely, not looking the stranger in the eyes as he tried to catch his suitcase and prevent the papers from sprawling all over the floor.

"It's fine," a male voice laughed.

At last Leo straightened up, dusted off his coat and looked up at the man, opening his mouth to apologize again. As soon as their eyes met, though, Leo stopped in his tracks, forgetting to speak altogether.

The stranger didn't look any less surprised.

"Bloom..?"


	2. Twisted Every Way

Back at the theatre, it wasn't going any smoother than prior to the lunch break. As a matter of fact, it maybe even caused more chaos than before. Since it wasn't clearly stated that the break will last for an hour as it would under usual conditions, the cast and crew apparently took it as an invitation to come as they pleased. And what was worse, it seemed that the producer couldn't be bothered, either.

Roger paced the floor impatiently, checking the time every other minute as if that'd somehow make everyone come back at once. Hands at his hips, he walked up and down the stage at least a hundred times before Carmen stopped him by throwing a little paper plane in his direction. Turning sharply as the plane crashed into his hair, Roger shot his partner an exasperated look.

"Seriously?" he exclaimed incredulously, stopping at long last.

The DeBris team exploded with laughter as they watched Roger take the simple origami, throw it to the ground and stomp on it to underline his annoyance.

"But it got your attention!" Carmen called from where he was standing with the rest of the team, leaning against a wall on the side of the stage. He had his arms crossed, smirking at Roger with that usual smug glint in his eye.

"Nonetheless," Roger just waved his hand dismissively, "shouldn't he be back by now?"

"You'll have to be more specific… There's a lot of people who _should_ be back by now!" Brian jeered and Shirley slapped his arm.

"Is this so funny to you? Excuse me, but I have a show to direct!" Roger huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Oh darling," Carmen finally walked over to him, smiling reassuringly. "You have to stay above things. So what if Leo is a little late? It's his show after all, he surely has a good reason."

"Yeah, maybe you've scared him away," Shirley shot at Roger grumpily.

"Or one of the enraged actors caught him and killed him," Brian joined dryly.

"Maybe it was the dancer…" Kevin added.

"Or," Scott cut in sharply to stop that theorizing, "he simply got too caught up in his work _and_ is tired of you all."

"Or that," Carmen mused. "But enough of this. Scott is right, Rog. We can carry on without Leo too… For now."

"I know…," Roger sighed, his look softening when he met Carmen's kind eyes. "Still, Max will kill us if we lose track of Leo's whereabouts, but well… Murdering later." Thus he shrugged, turning towards his troupe.

"I'm afraid this indeed is hopeless. We cannot open without being certain that everyone knows their roles properly or that they're willing to perform at all, for that matter… A few more people getting sick and that's it, I don't want that on my conscience… I don't see why Leo would want to go through with such a risk," Roger lamented.

"Cause Max told him to," Carmen scoffed.

"Oh, you can't know that," Roger waved his hand, apparently not wanting to put the blame on someone that wasn't even present.

"You think?" Carmen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Yes, well, that's not important… My point is, I'm not sure we should carry this on. I mean, look at this, half the cast is gone and they are still leaving, who says that by the end of the week we won't be out as well?" He looked at his team pointedly. "Or Leo. He lives with Max, don't you think he'll soon catch it too? And when that happens, I don't want to be the one responsible for the fail of this show… Maybe we really should consider postponing this."

"Isn't that a bit extreme? We've still got some time…" Kevin piped up, fidgeting with his hands nervously.

"It's Thursday. Do you think it'll be any better by Monday? Honestly, it only seems to be getting worse," Brian objected.

"I think so, too," Carmen agreed hesitantly. "It could end with a fiasco and nobody wants that, after all these months of hard work. And look at Leo, he's snapping… As much as he might try to deny it, he needs Max here with him, if only for the feeling of not being alone in this. So, yes... I'm with Roger," he smiled up at his partner then, linking their arms.

"Thank you, darling," Roger grinned back. "So, it's settled!"

"It's not," Shirley chided. "We still need Leo's agreement. And what about Max? Do you think he can convince him?"

"Oh..." Roger's face fell again. "Well, we'll have to see about that. So… Who'll tell him?" Roger looked around for a volunteer, but suddenly everyone was very preoccupied with anything else but meeting his eye.

Carmen sighed deeply.

"Fine," he grumbled after a while, "I'll do it!"

* * *

Leo hadn't seen this man for nearly three years. And yet, as soon as he found himself staring into a pair of alert eyes framed by thick-brimmed black glasses, he knew exactly who this was. His insides gave a slight jolt as he classified this rather short man into a category he'd rather forget. Whitehall and Marks.

In appearance he was nothing special, just another grey-eyed kid from work - thin and pale like a ghost. His dark hair was carefully brushed into a neat hairstyle very much like his own and the simple indogo suit he wore was nothing extraordinary, either. It was when he opened his mouth that everyone had to stop and listen, for this man was a true chatter-box, Leo remembered. Quick-witted and always full of energy, he was never able to stand quite still. Even now, as he stood before him, carrying his short height with easy self assurance, Leo noticed how his hands twitched at his sides and he blinked almost constantly.

No, there was no doubt in Leo's mind. This was his past co-worker.

"I don't believe it!" The young man finally exclaimed rather loudly, causing several customers to look up from their tables. It made Leo slightly uneasy. "To see you here, of all places… This is no Sardi's!"

"Oh, Perry…" Leo began, still mildly shocked. "What a surprise," he chuckled nervously, unsure of what else to say. He never really had a meaningful conversation with any of his co-workers, but somehow this felt a little like meeting an old friend. Or at least Perry acted like it.

"Likewise, likewise…" he laughed too, some of his primary excitement subsiding. Still, he looked at him with those vibrant eyes, though Leo couldn't really gather why. They weren't friends. Heavens, he didn't even know his full name! "What say we have a drink? You know, to celebrate," Perry winked at him while Leo stood dumbfounded.

"Celebrate?" Leo repeated incomprehensively.

"Of course! You're successful now, are you not?"

"Oh, um, I guess, but actually, I was just about to-" Leo stuttered, pointing to the door to try and explain that he had to go.

"Come on, just a moment," Perry almost pleaded. Why did this mean so much to him? They barely knew each other.

"Well, I was just about to leave, but…" Leo checked the time on his wristwatch, "Alright... I think I do have a moment."

This was strange, but being quite honest with himself, he was just curious what the fellow accountant had to say. Leo hadn't heard a word from his past workplace ever since he left, cutting all ties with the company instantly. But still, it had been a major part of his life, no matter how unpleasant. He wanted to know if things changed somehow after he quit.

"Excellent!" Perry clasped his hands together, his usual elation returning. He skipped over to the nearest table, pulling a chair aside for Leo. He had to smile at that.

"What do you want?" Perry asked as soon as he sat down, peering from behind the menu. "It's on me."

"Oh, no, I'll pay… It's not like one can afford to go big time with Marks' salary, huh?" Leo smirked, hoping it won't come off as offensive. But they both knew what working there was like, after all.

"How generous," he smirked back at Leo, setting his menu back down. "Just a coffee, then. A strong one, pretty please..."

"Need the extra energy to deal with Marks? Can't blame you, really… Actually, I might even get you a cake… As a compensation." Leo winked at him then, rather taken aback with what ease he talked to Perry. He was _joking_ with him.

After placing their orders, Leo felt a certain sense of nostalgia wash over him. He knew that a few years back, he would have been too nervous to even ask this guy for a pencil. Whether this newfound calmness was Max's doing or if he'd simply changed as soon as he left the accounting firm, Leo couldn't tell. But it felt strangely freeing, to be able to share a coffee with an old acquaintance without having to worry about running a little late and risking a punishment from an impatient boss.

"You're funny," Perry shot suddenly, not looking up from his cup.

"I am?" Leo had to laugh.

"Really," Perry's eyes met his shortly, "I've noticed before. Not that I ever dared to tell you, but… I think you're clever."

" _Dare_ to tell me?" Leo almost choked on his tea. How could anyone ever find him even mildly intimidating in any way?

"Yes well, you looked a little… Scared of me. Of everyone, to be quite frank. No offense," he sipped his coffee noisily. "You seem to be different now."

"Oh, don't be fooled yet... I'm sure Max- I mean, my bussiness partner would tell you otherwise," Leo objected dryly, but he couldn't resist a smile.

"Ah, yes, your partner," Perry perked up at the mention of the famous producer. "I'm actually quite surprised to have ran into you without him. You two are quite famous for sticking together, or so I heard."

"We are?" Leo laughed, finding it quite refreshing to hear such positive rumors about them for a change. Especially since this time those rumours were true.

"Mmh," Perry affirmed, mouth full of the cake Leo had bought for him. "I've also read that you live together. Is that true?"

"Oh," Leo felt his face flush at the question, but collected himself quickly. "Oh, yes. I mean, when I quit Whitehall and Marks, I had no reason to keep my own apartment, so…"

"I see," he merely replied, stirring his beverage and smirking. There was something smug behind that smirk, though.

"What?"

"Nothing," Perry looked back up at him suddenly, grinning. Leo flinched slightly as the man put his elbows on the table out of nowhere and leaned towards him. "I actually wanted to talk about something else, but first things first. How's the high life?"

"The high life?" Leo felt like a broken record, stupidly repeating everything the accountant said.

"You know, the fame, the parties… the girls," Perry emphasized the last part with a wink.

"Oh, there are no girls, really," Leo laughed sheepishly, looking down. "But to be honest, it isn't going so well right now… You know, it's this time of the year when no one's quite healthy, including my partner, so it's all on me now, including the accounting responsibilities and truth be told, I'm not really managing it as I should…" Leo stopped himself then, wondering why was he telling him all this.

He could've told him that he was doing amazing. That his social life was everything he ever wanted and more and that all kinds of girls were after him night and day. But why would he? That wasn't who he was. He was still the same old nervous him, only with better circumstances and surrounded with people who were like family. No getting drunk at parties, no expensive clothes and most of all no girls in his bed night after night. Heavens, he wouldn't even want that.

"Sounds tough," Perry simply replied after listening patiently. "Accounting, though? I thought you were over that part. Why don't you hire someone?"

"Yes well, we thought about it… But Max- I mean, _we_ want to save the money and I don't know, we don't really trust someone else to do it, I guess… But you're right. I would use some help," Leo laughed somewhat humourlessly, looking down at his hands. He noticed with a start that they were shaking slightly. He frowned, wrapping them around his warm cup. Maybe it was because of the cold combined with caffeine.

"Well, who knows," Perry continued after observing Leo for a while, "maybe I could be your accountant one day."

"Oh," Leo met his eyes, a little surprised by the offer, but then looked away again, smiling slightly. "Yes… who knows."

"But you're happy?" The question came unexpectedly, taking Leo by surprise. It wasn't exactly a conversation topic he'd expect to have with someone he barely knew. With someone who didn't care about him.

Leo found himself hesitating before he could answer.

"I… Yes. Yes, I am. Happier than I've been, to say the least…"

"You hesitated," Perry stated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

Leo opened his mouth to protest, but Perry waved his hand immediately, stopping him.

"I know," he assured. "It's a difficult question. You don't have to explain anything."

Leo watched him for a moment then, observing his expression closely and trying to find some hint of mockery behind his words, but there was none. It almost seemed as though he was genuinely interested in Leo's well being. But it just didn't make sense. Why would he care at all?

"Well…" Leo cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he'd stared at him a moment too long. "Are _you_ happy?"

"No," Perry replied simply, never losing his smile despite the negative answer. "But I'm happy for you. I really am. For having found the life you wanted. Hell, for having the courage to stand up to Marks in front of everyone! Did I tell you yet how amazing that was?"

"Why, thank you…" Leo laughed, feeling a slight blush creep up his face.

And suddenly, Leo felt a pang of sympathy for the other man. He'd been in his place before. Unhappy. Stuck. And God knew he'd wished for someone to simply come up to him one day and start talking to him like they did now. For someone to care just a little. Maybe they could have been friends, Leo realized with certain sadness. Maybe, in another lifetime.

A moment of silence passed between the two, but somehow it wasn't uncomfortable. Leo felt strangely at ease with him. How very curious.

His eyes explored the room again, trying to soak in that calm atmosphere. Fixating his gaze on the slow turning ceiling fans above, he leaned back, letting his mind wander a little. God, he could easily stay here for another hour or two. To just devour a warm drink in a cheery little café with someone who patiently sits and listens. To not have to worry about anything or anyone for a little while. Thinking of which…

Leo suddenly sat upright, his eyes darting to the glass clock on the wall. His stomach dropped as he saw the time. 13:10 . How was it so late already? He should've been back 40 minutes ago.

"Everything alright?" Perry frowned, seeing the look of panic flash across Leo's face.

"Ah, yes, I…" Leo gulped down the remains of his tea quickly, setting the cup down hastily and reaching for his briefcase. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go… I completely forgot the time and I should have been back at the theatre almost an hour-"

"Wait!" Perry almost jumped out of his seat when Leo moved to get up, stopping him with a raised hand. "Please, sit back down. Stay just a moment longer."

"Perry, I…" Leo sighed, glancing between the clock and the insistent accountant.

"Please," he prompted again, looking up at Leo from behind his glasses with pleading eyes. "I need to tell you something..."

* * *

"I'm gonna call him," Roger proclaimed definitely, crossing his arms.

"And then? What will Max do? You'll only get us and Leo in trouble!" Shirley protested.

"We already _are_ in trouble!"

"So why not make it worse, right?" Shirley scoffed, throwing her arms up.

"We should have gone with him..." Kevin joined in the brawl, wringing his hands nervously.

Off to the side stood Carmen, watching the scene with little interest. He had simply decided to not bother anymore, for it was pointless. They wouldn't stop arguing anytime soon, he knew. Even if there was nothing to argue over, it was some kind of an unspoken rule that everyone goes berserk during the tech week. No exceptions. Well, this time he could as well be one.

Pushing himself up from the wall he was leaning onto, Carmen made his way towards Scott who stood a little further behind the team, shifting from one foot to the other repeatedly. He looked nervous, but not nearly as hysterical as Roger and the rest. Deciding he'll be the most sensible option at the moment, Carmen took him by the elbow and dragged him to the side.

"What are you…" Scott started to protest, but Carmen immediately motioned him to be silent.

"Listen," Carmen began, glancing over to make sure that no one else is paying them attention. "You and I both know that they won't solve anything by this blabbering, right?"

"Right," Scott confirmed with a sigh. "So, what's your evil plan, pray tell?"

"I'll go to the office," Carmen offered simply, awaiting the reaction.

"The office? What, you want to pay Max a little visit? Coffee and all?" Scott scoffed.

"Oh, stop it." Carmen rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna talk to him. Tell him that Leo's sent me to check up on him and prepare him for the fact that we want to cancel the premiere. Since Leo is God knows where and will return God knows when... I won't stand by any longer and let this blow up even more, so if I can't talk to him, I'll talk to Max, no? Isn't that fair?"

"I guess, but… What if Leo's already there? Maybe he's gone home…"

"Well then all the better! I'd catch two producers for the prize of one! Good deal, eh?"

"Don't mock me…" Scott grumbled, shooting him an offended yet somewhat amused look.

"I would never," Carmen jeered. "But seriously. It can't get any worse anyway, can it? And it would take some pressure off of Leo… Max should take the news better, he's been there before."

"Better? He's gonna skin you alive. And demand to speak to Leo, who, may I remind you, has been swallowed by the ground!"

"So be it! Maybe if he kills me first, he won't target Leo then..." Carmen smirked, but he meant it.

It felt wrong to just come to Leo with another responsibility and leave him for the wolves. No, it was better this way. There had been so many arguments that day already that one more telling off from Max really wouldn't make a difference. And besides, he wouldn't mind it at all if he could escape the chaos of the theatre for a little while.

"Yes, okay, whatever…" Scott waved his hands about, clearly resigned. "But what about them?" He pointed to the still bickering team. "Won't you tell them?"

"Oh, _you_ will, but only once I'm out the door. Then you can explain everything, make things up for all I care… But I gotta go before they start listing reasons why I shouldn't do it." Carmen looked over to his roommates shortly, knowing that'd be exactly what they'd do. He hesitated himself, though, pondering whether his actions could have some negative consequences on the production or worse, on Leo.

But even as he considered every possible outcome, he found none that could be too harmful. It was the right thing to do. Everyone in the room needed some sort of resolution and quite frankly, he wasn't willing to wait any longer. This was enough.

"Alright… I'll go," Carmen decided after a while, turning to Scott fully. "You make sure no one kills anybody while I'm away, understood?"

"Yes sir," Scott answered dryly, giving him a little salute.

Carmen chuckled, gave him a little pat as a sign of gratitude and after making sure his team wasn't watching him, he started for the door swiftly.

"Where are you going?" A short dancer stopped him halfway through, her ginger locks pouncing as she hopped around him, a worried expression on her freckled face.

"Hell, most likely," Carmen replied casually and kept going, not turning back.

* * *

"Tell me something?" Leo frowned, wondering what on earth could be so urgent. But it did pique his curiosity. He had to find out now. "Do, then…"

Perry exhaled deeply and smiled when Leo sat back down reluctantly. Although he could still feel the uncomfortable tightness in his chest, knowing that he was well overdue with arriving at the theatre, this seemed important. At least to Perry.

So, Leo set his briefcase back down carefully, granting the other accountant his full attention again.

"Thank you," Perry said sincerely, his fingers drumming against the table at a mad speed. It made Leo somehow uneasy. "Well, I'm not exactly sure how to begin…"

"Please, just do," Leo prompted. "I'm really quite pressed…"

"Of course, of course, I'm sorry," Perry raised his hands quickly. "Alright, there's this. You do remember how Marks treated us, right? How he treated _you._ "

"Me? I… Of course I do…" Leo shook his head incomprehensively. He really didn't like where this conversation was heading from the very beginning.

"Good. So you must know that he won't change? That he'll keep doing that to everyone?"

"What are you asking me, Perry?" He didn't understand. Why was he telling him this? Of course he knew...

"Listen," Perry stopped his crazy drumming on the table and folded his hands instead, but suddenly he looked incapable of meeting his eye. "It's gotten worse. You know, after you left, he's been looking for a replacement. A new target, you could say. But no one wanted the job; Of course they didn't, having heard about him… And please, don't take this the wrong way, but… You were easy for him. You let him do what he does. You didn't talk back. Well, until you did… And, believe it or not, it sparked some confidence in many of us. And he hates it. He hates that people dare to oppose him, so he's making an effort to make it as unpleasant as possible for us… And I just… I can't stand it, you know? I've had enough."

"Then leave," Leo offered helplessly. He knew how hard it was. How hopeless it seemed. But there was a way out. There was one for him, at least...

"And be unemployed," Perry nodded as if he had expected him to say exactly that. "Yeah, that won't work. I thought _you_ would understand that, of all people…"

"I do," Leo spoke up hastily, sitting upright. "I do… And I'm sorry. But I don't see how I can-"

"I need your help," Perry blurted out.

Leo felt his hands getting cold. He didn't like that notion.

Something felt wrong. He didn't want to talk about the accounting firm. Or think about it, for that matter. How on Earth could he be any help?

"I…" Leo gulped, trying to sort his thoughts. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean…"

"This needs to stop, you have to agree with me on that. And I thought… You've stood up to him before and what's more, you have one advantage that no one else among us has; You're successful. You're above him now and since you don't work for him anymore, you don't have to be concerned about losing your job… You see where I'm going with this?" Perry looked up at Leo expectantly, hoping he'll catch on.

"No," Leo said slowly, trying to grasp the situation, "I don't…"

"Come on, you're smart," Perry pushed, getting desperate. "I want you to help me put an end to this. To fire him from his position. The things he's doing… Don't you think enough people suffered from it already?"

"Y-yes, but-"

"But what?" Perry was getting more desperate by the second. And so was Leo. He could feel the tremor of his hands increasing as the need to leave got stronger. He shouldn't be there. He needed to get back to the theatre.

"But I've moved on, you said it before… I found the life that I wanted, why would you ask me to go back?"

"I'm not asking you to go back," Perry shook his head, leaning in even closer. Leo pulled back instinctively. "You wouldn't have to give anything up, I promise. I just need your time and knowledge, I'll take care of the rest… If you would only hear me out-"

"No," Leo shot without thinking. He wasn't even sure what he was answering to, but it was the only thing going through his head that moment.

No. He wanted no part in this. That period of his life was behind him and quite frankly, he wanted it to stay there. No need for reminders when he finally got everything he only used to dream of.

"No?" Perry suddenly deflated as his shoulders fell, the disappointment apparent in his voice. "How can you say no? Just because you were lucky, you'll pretend that it never happened? Tell me, how old were you when you started working there? Twenty?"

"Twenty one…" Leo murmured, though he knew it didn't really matter.

"Twenty one," Perry nodded solemnly. "So when he hired another hopeful, naive kid to replace _you_ … Will you just stand back, knowing that he'll share your fate? Minus the happy ending?"

"They didn't help me when _I_ needed it," Leo closed his eyes, trying to block out the little voice in his head telling him how selfish that was. But why should he care? They didn't.

"Don't you see the irony of it?" Perry lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "No, they didn't. But who did _you_ help? Didn't you just sit back, wishing someone would interfere? Speak up for you? Well, maybe they're thinking that too, but no one is willing to do it first…"

"Why should I be the first?" He stood up, trying to get away from the situation, but the more Perry talked, the more Leo realized how right he was. How could he pretend that he was something more, when all he ever did was reluctantly take a chance that Max literally had to shove into his face?

"Because," Perry stood as well, looking hard into Leo's eyes. "You owe me!"

The exclamation hung in the air as several guests of the café halted their conversations, discretely turning their attention to the escalating scene. Leo stopped where he was, trying to resist the urge to turn and go. He should have expected that. Of course he'd bring it up.

Suddenly he felt stupid for ever having believed that it would be just a little pleasant meeting with an old acquaintance that he'd forget about as soon as he went back to his life at the theatre. It was never like that. They all wanted something.

"Owe you?" Leo mumbled, but he didn't need to ask. He knew what he was referring to.

"When he took that… handkerchief of yours, causing you to panic in front of everyone… Who told him he can't take your property?" He didn't sound accusing or angry. Not at all. In a way Leo wish he had, because then he wouldn't feel so guilty. For being the coward that he always had been.

"Or when he forced you to work overtime while you were sick," Perry continued, his look softening. "Have you forgotten who waited for you to make sure you got home safely?"

"You did…" Leo whispered and looked away, feeling the shame in his chest like a knife. Truth was, he did forget, having tucked those memories away into a folder and filed them somewhere into the cabinets of his mind, losing the key. That was, until now.

"I did," Perry confirmed sadly. "I don't need to continue, do I?"

Leo just shook his head, avoiding the accountant's gaze. He was right, which was something Leo found harder to admit than he had expected. But he was scared. Of what might happen if he agrees. Or if he refuses. Every way seemed twisted, but he had to answer something. Could he really turn his back on a man who once showed him kindness when no one else did?

"Please," Perry walked over to Leo, putting one hand on his arm carefully. "I don't want to force you. I know it's a lot to ask and I know that we don't really know each other... But I also know that you're a good man. And we can do it, if you'll help me…"

Leo's heart skipped a beat. We can do it.

He'd heard those words before, under similar circumstances. Someone asking him to be brave enough to make a change, only this time, it would be a change in someone else's favour. It sounded like the right thing to do.

But then he thought of Max and everything he'd done for him. He thought of the theatre and their failing production. He thought of the DeBris team and the faith they all put into him.

And lastly, he thought of himself. Who he was and who he used to be. The things he did and those he couldn't do. And it made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he shook Perry's hand off of his arm, backing away towards the door until his fingers found the handle. "I can't do it!"

* * *

 _**A/N:** _ _History repeating itself, huh? xD Let me know what you think! <3_


	3. On The Line

There it was. Door 716.

Carmen stood in the small corridor in front of Max's office- no, Leo's _and_ Max's office- staring at the rich font painted on the glass.

" _ **BIALYSTOCK & BLOOM: theatrical producers**_"

He had to smile, seeing that. For years, it had been just Max's name there, or so Roger told him. He found it strangely warming to see both of their names there, two equal partners, working and living together. And as wary as he was around the older producer, Carmen knew that he wasn't a bad person. How could he be, when Leo adored him that much?

There was nothing to worry about. He could knock. He could explain. He could get this over with.

He raised his fist.

In a flash, the door flew open. Startled, Carmen let out a yelp as he came face to face with a disheveled looking Max. He was wearing his usual velvet dressing gown and his hair was untamed. It almost looked like he'd just woken up, which would be probable, considering the reasons for his absence in the theatre. He did seem rather pale, but not nearly as deadly ill as Leo made him out to be.

A mixture of surprise and curiosity passed across the older man's face, but soon his usual laid-back demeanor returned.

"Carmen," he stated simply. "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else?"

"Not until two." Carmen smirked, strode past Max and let himself inside.

"Come in," Max breathed resignedly as Carmen already made himself comfortable in his armchair. His _favourite_ armchair. "Care to explain what the hell are you doing here?"

"Lovely to see you too, Max," Carmen purred, entwining his fingers deliberately.

"Can we cut the pleasantries and get to the point of your presence in my humble abode?"

"Ah, eloquent as ever… But if you need to know, it was your partner who sent me here, actually."

Carmen knew he was pushing his buttons by those smug responses, but it was somehow mutual. They both enjoyed to annoy the other immensely, but it was more of a friendly game. Or at least it seemed so to Carmen.

"Leo?" Max's tone changed as his expression turned back to surprise.

"That's his name," Carmen confirmed, struggling to hold in laughter at Max's apparent change in spirits at the mere mention of Leo.

"What about him?" He tried to sound nonchalant again as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Carmen didn't dare to ask how many he's had since the morning, but judging by all the mugs laying around, it was enough to keep one awake for several days. He turned away from the mess in mild disgust.

"Nothing," Carmen shrugged, trying to sound convincing. "He wanted me to check up on you. The little sweetheart, isn't he?"

"Why would he do that?" Unfortunately, Max didn't sound convinced at all. "I told him not to worry. Did something happen?"

"Oh please, when has telling him not to worry had any effect at all? This is _Leo_ we're talking about, may I remind you…"

"You're avoiding my question," Max replied calmly, but there was a certain edge to his voice.

Carmen shifted in his seat.

"Well," he began, trying to think up a satisfying response on the spot. "I wouldn't say that something _happened_ , but…"

"But what?" Max growled now. He should have known that lying to a liar won't be that easy, Carmen thought wryly.

"Nothing happened!" he assured Max quickly. "Just, you know, during this time of a production, everyone's more or less prone to panicking and-"

"He panicked?!" Max exclaimed incredulously.

"No! I mean, not exactly-"

"Not _exactly_? He either did or he did not!"

"Why are we shouting?!" Carmen snapped, cutting their little exchange short.

"I'm not! You were…" Max grumbled lowly as he pulled his gown closer around himself defensively, plopping down on the couch since his visitor still occupied the armchair.

"Does this really happen every time we're left alone together?" Carmen had to chuckle after they both cooled down again.

"It may seem like it," Max agreed with a sneer. "Still, it doesn't change the fact that you haven't answered."

"Oh, you're insufferable," Carmen massaged his temple, "but luckily for you, I have mercy for the sick…"

"Lucky me," Max scoffed. "So?"

"They're arguing. All of them. I hate to say it, but it almost seems that your absence didn't go unnoticed by the cast. One could even say that it caused anarchy to spread among them more than the flu…"

"First of all, _please_ stop talking like a victorian cavalier..." Max passed a hand across his face tiredly. "Second of all, how does that relate to Leo? Did he start a riot? Blew up the theatre when no one was looking?"

"That's close," Carmen chuckled, imagining such a sight. "But no. _He_ blew up, actually, but then again, so did everyone else. Didn't surprise me, really…" Thus he shrugged and got up, trying to make it look like it was no big deal. Like they had everything under control. And most importantly, like they totally knew where Leo could be found that very moment.

Maybe he should tell Max about that last part. Or maybe not. No, definitely not.

"Blew up? Are you sure it was Leo? _My_ Leo?" Max laughed, finding it rather hard to imagine the shy man snapping and shouting the whole cast into their place.

"Yes, _your_ Leo…" Carmen rolled his eyes, though he found it quite adorable. Not that he'd ever admit it to Max, of course.

"Boy, one is out of the spotlight for a minute and the whole production goes up in flames… Along with the assistant producer," Max chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of it.

"Assistant producer?" Carmen squealed in that over-the-top scandalised voice of his. "Excuse me, but I don't remember you ever having an _assistant_ producer!"

"Oh, come on," Max jeered, waving his hand. "You know what I mean… He assists me, I assist him. It's a collaboration! Pure partnership! Does that sound better?"

"You're so impossible," Carmen huffed, crossing his arms. "Leo is no assistant! Just so you know, right now he's out there doing _your_ job, atop his own, and he's doing it well…"

"When did I say he's not?" Max was really just quite amused at the defensive behavior. Though he had to admit, defending Leo was one of the few things they shared. "But alright, I see that being an assistant is offensive to you… My dear common-law _assistant_ ," he added quickly and ducked, expecting to be hit with a pillow or something of the like.

"Wow, can we just pretend, for one second, that you're not a complete douchebag and move on?" Carmen just held his head exasperatedly, desperate to get to the point and leave.

"I'd _love_ to move on, to be frank... Move on to the bedroom." Max pointed to the door in the back of the room and moved to get up. "And please, tell Leo that next time he sends someone to babysit me, make it a girl at least," he stopped in the doorway, considering his words, "but not Shirley, for God's sake…"

"I'll be sure to pass your kind words on," Carmen rubbed his eyes shortly before looking back up at Max with a smug smirk, "to Shirley…"

"Oh, I knew you're cruel, but not _that_ cruel…" Max crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, mirroring Carmen's expression. "So, has Leo really sent you?"

"Of course," Carmen defended himself, although it did throw him a little off guard. "He's, you know, very worried for your well-being…"

"He is?" Max raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying Carmen's attempts. "I see… Well then, if you don't mind, I'll join you when you head back to the theatre. It tends to get a bit boring here, in my lonely little apartment…"

"Join me?" Carmen sat upright quickly, alarmed. "Why would you do that?" That wasn't on the plan. Not at all.

"To help Leo out!" Max exclaimed simply, already taking off his dressing gown. "And to ask him why in the hell would he send _you_ to check up on me…"

"Well, who else?" Carmen jumped up from his seat, trying to hold onto his little invention still. "Leo likes me and you're just too bitter to admit it!"

"Aw, Leo likes everyone," Max brushed it off while he searched for a clean shirt to wear. "That proves nothing…"

"What do you want me to prove?" Carmen retorted, but soon realized that he drove himself into a corner that moment. He had just basically asked him if he didn't believe him.

"Prove? Nothing..." Max said over his shoulder casually as he tried to tie his cravate. "Cause I know that you're lying."

"Oh, come on…" Carmen threw his hands up, surrendering, while Max looked extremely pleased with himself that moment. "What revealed me? The stuttering? The body language? The fact that you're so good of a liar that you can spot another one right away?"

"A combination of the three, actually," Max answered dryly, crossed his arms and cocked one eyebrow. "Now that your secret is revealed, what summoned you here? The _true_ reason?"

Carmen glared at him for several moments, itching to make another snide comment, but then thought better of it. If they continued their little battle of wills, he knew they were both stubborn enough to go on for hours. Normally, he'd probably go for it, willing to go to great lengths just to surpass the witty producer. But as soon as he considered that, he had to remind himself that he was doing this for Leo. Bickering with Max could always come later. With that promise in mind, Carmen took a breath to steady himself for the upcoming talk and leaned against the leather couch's headrest, trying to look relaxed.

"Fine," he began, noticing Max's impatient look. "There's... something that needs the approval of the producer before we can go through with it. And if I remember correctly, _you_ could be the right person to ask…" Despite his efforts, he couldn't resist a snarky remark. At least a small one.

"Really?" Max asked in that sceptical tone still. It was starting to seriously get on Carmen's nerves, but he tried not to let it show. He _did_ need his blessing, after all. "That means Leo agreed to that _something_ already?"

"Yes, well…" Carmen hesitated, thinking how to put it, but no convenient half-truth came to mind. So, he grudgingly decided to go with his only option left; the plain truth. "He didn't disagree."

"What does that even mean?" Max scoffed, slowly losing his patience. All those unclear statements circled around Leo almost suspiciously, which made him wary; the easygoing accountant was hardly ever the source of problems at the theatre, but this time it sounded like that was exactly the case. And if Max didn't know better, he would even be worried.

"I didn't ask him," was the simple reply.

"And that's because..?

"I couldn't quite reach him."

Carmen didn't know why was he delaying the response so much, after all, it was nothing that serious. Though he had to admit, it did weigh down on his mind slightly. The possibility that something had happened to Leo on his way back to the theatre was still there, considering the slightly distraught state he left in, but he refused to even consider that. No, such mindset wouldn't help anyone.

Maybe he just didn't want to admit defeat to the other man. Or get himself and the rest of his team into trouble. Or maybe, he simply didn't want to worry him. Whatever it was that stopped him from being honest, it didn't really matter. This whole visit was awfully impulsive and unplanned in the first place.

"Carmen, I swear to God," Max warned now. "Where is he?

"Ah, well," Carmen scratched the back of his head, "that, I don't know…"

* * *

Determination drove him on. Face blank, as if a screen had been pulled down to hide his emotions, Leo hurried along. Fear sat heavy on his heart as he walked as fast as he could. Eyes plastered to the pavement, he stared at his shoes, moving swiftly in a blur.

The cold painted bright red on his cheeks as the crisp air blew through him, rustling his hair and chilling his bones. Leaves of red and brown flew past in a whirl of motion, momentarily adding color into the otherwise gray streets before the wind carried them away from view, their fleeting beauty forgotten.

He would forget. He would pretend that the meeting never happened, ban it from his memory and go on as usual. For if there was one thing he was good at, it was running from his problems, Leo thought disdainfully.

With each stride his mind became more clear, more resolute, as if the growing physical distance between him and Perry would make his doubts disappear. As if once he'd be safe behind the walls of the Shubert theatre, the whole incident would cease to exist.

Still, he couldn't get rid of that one particular sentence Perry had said to him.

_I thought you'd understand that, of all people…_

By God, he did. And that was the hardest part.

As the old building came into view, promising a new chance, a new beginning to that awful day, he blocked the words of his former colleague from his memory, at least for the moment. With each stride after that he felt more in charge of his own mind, his body and his actions. Then, abruptly pausing in front of the stage door to close his eyes and take in a deep breath of the chilly air, Leo steeled himself to face the people inside again.

He would apologize. He would explain. The rehearsal would continue as usual.

He pushed the door open confidently.

The atmosphere he was met with inside wasn't one he would expect in a place full of loud musicians, energetic dancers and brash crew members. It was quiet. Almost eerily quiet, as only the sound of the door clicking closed echoed through the silence.

The closer he got to the main auditorium, the more he thought that maybe Roger has had enough and sent everyone home. Maybe a part of him even hoped for such a scenario. However, as soon as he reached the side door leading directly into the hall, he was proved wrong.

Although hushed and scattered, he could clearly hear the several overlapping voices on the other side, but couldn't quite make out what they said or who had spoken. Not that it mattered, for they weren't addressing him. That was, at least not yet.

Again, he was reminded of the inevitable shower of questions that was bound to come the very moment he would open the door, but he counted on that. He sighed and took off his coat.

However, before he could even reach the handle, he heard footsteps approaching quickly. The door swung open in a flash, giving him no time to jump away. The hard wood collided directly with his face, making him stumble back several steps as he bent over, holding his nose.

"Oh my God!" a female voice exclaimed. "Leo! What the… Are you alright?!"

Rather shaken, Leo looked up at the woman, recognizing the voice even though it was unusually high for her. Shirley stood beside him, hands clasped over her mouth as she stared at him in mild horror. He straightened up, trying to blink away the tears that gathered in his eyes almost instantly, still holding one hand to his nose to stop the blood from coming. Well, that sure was unexpected.

"I'm fine," he tried to laugh to ease her worries. Though it indeed was quite amusing, he had to admit. Just when he thought the day couldn't get any better, this felt like the final punch it needed to be complete. Sort of a cherry on top.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there…" Shirley explained, still quite pale from the shock. She recovered quickly, though, and slapped Leo's arm lightly. "What the hell were you doing there anyway? Where have you been?"

"What in the God's name is going on there again?" he heard Roger shout from the stage and march towards them, his entire troupe following close behind. That was the moment chaos ensured.

"Leo! By God, what happened?" Roger stopped before Leo, looking quite aghast himself.

"Dear, are you alright? Let me look at it!" Kevin joined, jumping around him frantically.

"We were so worried!" Scott added.

"You didn't just punch him, did you?!" Brian asked, turning to Shirley with the most disbelieving expression Leo had seen on him yet. Shirley defended herself immediately, adding fuel to the fire.

Leo did his best to stay out of it as he looked past the little crowd that had gathered around him to try and spot Carmen, in hopes that he'd rescue him from the spotlight. But he was nowhere to be seen. Leo frowned, thinking that he must have gone backstage.

"Shut up!" Shirley shouted suddenly, interrupting his thoughts and stopping everyone in their tracks. "Could we stop traumatizing the poor boy further? Brian!" She barked at the designer as he tried to shuffle away discreetly. "Why aren't you useful for once and go and get some tissues?"

"It's fine," Leo repeated, taking his hand away from his face to replace it with a white handkerchief. He grimaced at the stain, trying not to look at it. The sight of blood was the last thing he needed at the moment. "There's no time to waste time. Or, as Max would put it, time is money," he added with a slight smirk.

"Are you sure?" Scott put a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking down at him sincerely.

"Positive." Leo nodded, smiling a little despite the uncomfortable tingling in his face that just wouldn't go away. "Oh, and I'm sorry for my, um, delay... I guess I got a little carried away… by work."

"Yeah… A little." Brian chuckled as Shirley pushed him, glaring disapprovingly.

Leo just looked down sheepishly, having to smirk at the comment yet feeling slightly guilty for not being honest with them. Not that his little encounter was something they'd urgently need to hear about anyway.

"Marvelous." Roger clasped his hands together after a short pause. "As a matter of fact, Carmen needed to talk to you-" he halted, looking around- "where's Carmen?"

The others started turning their heads as well, muttering and searching for their missing friend. That was, everyone except for Scott. Leo titled his head curiously, focusing on the suspiciously quiet choreographer.

"Scott?" He asked carefully after a while.

"Me?" Scott jerked awake as his eyes widened. "I, uh, yes… I believe he went to the office…" He wrung his hands together, awaiting Leo's reaction uncertainly.

"The office?" Leo frowned, confused. "As in _our_ office? Why?"

"Well, we-" Scott began, meaning to explain, but Roger pushed him slightly to the side immediately, cutting him off.

"There's this," Roger intervened, suddenly looking fairly uncomfortable as well. "Leo, this show… Do you think that it's, well, going as it should?"

"What? I… You know the answer." Leo let his hand drop from his face, still incomprehensive. "What are you implying?"

"Alright, enough sugar coating." Roger stroked through his hair once and sighed, fixating Leo with a rather stern look. "We will postpone this."

There was a tense moment where Leo's face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information. In that instant his skin became pale, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. Slowly he began to shake his head. How could they even consider this?

"Leo, look around." Roger swiped his arm through the air. "This here is, quite literally, falling apart…"

"No…" He kept on shaking his head, feeling his pulse shooting up as emotions took over again. "It isn't yours to decide!"

"It isn't," Shirley agreed, her voice uncharacteristically soothing. "But try to understand… People are getting sick, shouldn't safety always be first?"

"But… Theatre is first. That's what you always said… It's always been like that. You can't just- just throw all the work away 4 days before opening!" This was not true. The one thing he didn't want to happen, happening right now. What would he tell Max?

"Dear, you can't believe everything Max tells you." Scott cut in, as if reading his thoughts. "Of course we don't _want_ to do it, but sometimes it's just necessary…"

"It's not necessary." Leo disagreed, sniffing once as his nose started to bleed again. What a day. "It's convenient… For you."

"Honey, calm down," Kevin approached him now, getting worried.

"No, no, I just.. I mean, I don't-" Leo stuttered, but eventually gave up, sighing as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry… I don't know. I need… I think I need to talk to Max."

"Of course," Roger exhaled as well, not feeling up to reason with him any longer. The rest of the team just nodded understandingly.

"Wait." Leo froze again as he remembered one important detail from earlier. "Tell me again why Carmen went to the office?"

"Well…" Scott fidgeted with his fingers as he looked to his team for help, but everyone stayed silent. "To tell Max about-"

"Oh my God," Leo shot instantly, not letting Scott finish his sentence. He has heard enough.

He turned away from them and went to collect his coat and briefcase, wanting to get to their office as soon as possible. In a flash, Roger caught his hand before he could reach for it, stopping him where he was. He looked up at him, confused.

"Will you just consider it?" Roger almost pleaded, though his expression was soft and undemanding. "Talk to Max, explain our reasons and try to understand them yourself… You'll know what to do."

Leo almost laughed at that. Truth was, he had no idea what to do.

He hesitated, for this moment was crucial. He knew that the remains of the eavesdropping cast were watching him too, waiting for his decision. Looking from Roger to the hopeful team, he sighed.

Finally he gave them a curt nod, disappearing without another word.

* * *

Even halfway on the stairs, Leo could already hear the unsettlingly loud voices coming from their office.

"In what context should I understand that 'you don't know' where he is?!" He recognized Max's demanding voice clearly.

"There's no context! Leo is a free man, he just went to have lunch!" Carmen defended himself, sounding irritated at Max's nagging.

Leo couldn't resist rolling his eyes. Not them too. It felt like he had to deal with more quarrels in one day than he did in a year. Though he had to admit, he found their concern quite touching.

Climbing up the last few steps to their floor, he wiped over his face once more, hesitating just a moment before entering the room. He wanted to get it over with better sooner than later.

The two men were so caught up in their exchange of opinions that they didn't notice him standing in the doorway for a good moment. Shutting the door rather noisily to get their attention, Leo watched as both their heads snapped to him in unison, cutting their little discussion short.

"Oh, come on!" Max threw his hands up after recovering from the initial surprise. He turned to Carmen. "What is this again? Have you told the entire theatre to come over with fruits and blessings?"

"Oh shut up, you cynic." Carmen shot Max a glare as he put a hand on Leo's back, leading him inside. "And be glad that he's alright."

"I assure you, I'd make sure you'd notice it if he wasn't," Max sneered, walked over to them and took Carmen's place by Leo's side. Leo couldn't help but snicker at their little competition.

Carmen just turned his eyes heavenward and muttered something unintelligible, before turning to Leo with a grin almost too wide for the current situation.

"Sweetheart, I was just telling Max here-" he gave him a pointed look again- "about the latest happenings in the theatre."

"He was," Max agreed, raising an eyebrow. "But I _still_ don't know a damn thing."

"I see," Leo jumped in, hoping to cut it right there. "Well, thank you for coming. I'll take it from there…" Thus he ushered Carmen towards the exit hastily, practically pushing him out the door.

"What?" Carmen squealed, trying to get back inside. "But I was just about to-"

_"Carmen,"_ Leo warned, giving him a tense smile, though his look spoke volumes. "Thank you, I'll manage."

"Ah, of course," Carmen understood, winking at him once, "well, in that case… Farewell, Max. Do us all a favour and get better, will you? Leo," he bowed before him shortly and turned on his heel elegantly, leaving them alone.

Leo exhaled and closed the door behind him softly, leaning on it as he closed his eyes for a moment. It felt good to be home, even if not for long.

"Boy, what was that?" Max chuckled, walking over to his partner and throwing one arm around his shoulders.

"You tell me," Leo asked back and smirked, allowing him to lead them to the couch. Not bothering to even take off his coat, he collapsed on it gratefully, basking in the much needed comfort.

"Tough day?" Max raised an eyebrow, turning to Leo expectantly.

"Oh, don't even ask," Leo just groaned, covering his face with both hands.

"Hm, your wish is my command. Still, I believe you were supposed to tell me something about-" he stopped mid-sentence, frowning as he raised a hand to touch Leo's face- "what happened to you? Did someone punch you?"

"Oh, it's nothing..." Leo laughed sheepishly, twisting his head away gently. "Shirley just-"

"Shirley _punched_ you?!" Max scoffed incredulously. "Bloom fights with our lightning designer and I miss it?"

"Ah, stop it," Leo pushed him and rolled his eyes, though he had his problems resisting a laugh at the mental image of such a battle. "Let's just say that the door doesn't duck away when your face is in its way…"

"Somehow I found the first version more plausible, but…" Max stopped to snicker again, "alright, I think I'll believe you."

Leo just made a face at him in response, but then his expression softened again, getting more serious.

"How are you?" Leo asked with genuine concern, looking Max up and down.

"My lawyer says I don't have to answer that question," Max replied smugly, leaning in close.

"Really? What does your accountant say?" Leo played along, inching closer as well.

"I don't know," Max held Leo's gaze, his lips twitching into a smile, "I'm afraid I'd have to ask him."

"He says," Leo planted both hands on Max's chest, pulling away just when their noses were almost touching. "That you're either clinically insane or just incredibly annoying."

"Why, that's curious." Max leaned back as well, amused. "I was meaning to ask you the exact same thing."

"In my case? Probably both," Leo grinned, unable to hold back anymore. Now more than before he wanted nothing more than to stay on that couch, joking with Max back and forth all evening until he'd fall asleep with his stomach hurting from all the laughter. That made the realization of what he still had to deal with all the harder.

Max must've noticed the slight shift in Leo's spirits, for instead of topping it off with another witty remark, he simply put an arm around his shoulders again, pulling him in closer for a sort of a hug. Leo responded to it eagerly, letting his head rest on Max's shoulder without hesitation.

"Carmen told me that you sent him to check up on me," Max started anew after several quiet moments, turning his head slightly to smirk at Leo.

"Oh, yeah…" Leo hesitated, slightly taken aback, but decided to go along with it. "I did."

"Is that so? Later he said that you didn't," Max raised his eyebrows, bemused at the contradicting facts.

"Yeah…" Leo looked down sheepishly and smiled, embarrassed at having been caught. "I didn't."

At that, Max just chuckled and shook his head, choosing not to ask any more questions. God knew what else he could find out if he continued pressing.

Leo, on the other hand, was rather conflicted. While he was well aware that he was expected to simply talk to Max about the show and head straight back to the theatre as soon as possible, he didn't have the slightest wish to actually do so. Nor was he really able to move from his spot, for Max was keeping him in place rather firmly.

Telling him about his unfortunate encounter seemed meaningless, too. For this was his life. This was home. And although it could get more overwhelming than he'd like at times, he was content.

The memories of past accounting firms and failing productions were slowly fading as he started dozing off, his thoughts becoming disorganized enough to release his mind into sleep. Now all he had to do was allow it to.

The world could wait.

* * *

_**A/N:** Things are getting a little complicatedat the Shubert theatre, huh? xD Feedback much appreciated! <3_


	4. Being Alive

_**A/N:** _ _New school year, new chapter! Lemme know what you think :)_

* * *

You know your day is off to a great start when you wake up and your first thought is 'no'.

Lazily stretching, Leo's eyes flickered open, eyelashes faintly batting against his lids when he blinked. Immediately a hundred questions shot through his mind. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? This wasn't his bedroom. Where was he?

From the carousel of random ideas came some order - a subtle awareness of who he was under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to his waking life. After a few moments more he began to analyze them reluctantly.

Blinking several times to get adjusted to the brightness of the ceiling light, he became aware of his whereabouts.

He was laying on the couch in their office, debating whether or not he should get up. His muscles felt weak just like his energy, as if he'd never slept in the first place.

He closed his eyes again, willing the carousel to return, for his mind to tumble back to dreams, but it wouldn't. Now the tasks of the day were demanding he thinks about them, finds solutions and gets jobs done by day's end. He was awake and there was no retreat. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Leo groaned as he rolled off of the sepia-colored sofa he had been occupying. He had to get ready to start (or continue) the day.

Looking around drowsily, he frowned. Where was Max? He had been right next to him just a while ago. Or had it really been a while? He couldn't tell.

"Oh look, he's alive!" he suddenly heard an exclamation come from the bathroom.

Surprised, Leo turned, only to meet the eyes of the very one he'd been looking for. Max stood in the doorway, a toothbrush in hand as he smirked back at him.

"Oh, hey…" Leo smiled, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleepiness. "Ready for bed already?"

Max looked at him funnily. "Already? What do you mean?"

"Huh?" Leo titled his head, confused as well. "What time is it?"

"Six."

"Really?" Leo raised his eyebrows and looked out the window. It was, indeed, dark outside. "Well, that's not so bad... Although I'm afraid I won't make it to rehearsals in time, will I?" he laughed sheepishly. As far as he knew, they must have ended at least an hour ago.

"Leo," Max looked at him as though he'd lost his mind, "it's six. As in, six in the morning…"

Leo's eyes widened as he processed

what Max had just said. Six _in the morning?_ No, there was no way. He had merely taken a nap... But the more he thought about it… Maybe it wasn't _already_ dark. It was still dark.

"Oh my God," he simply said, pressing one hand to his head. If his memory was correct- though right now he doubted it- he had fallen asleep at barely 2pm. How on Earth does one sleep so long? "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Wake you? What for?" Max jeered as he disappeared into the bathroom again, reemerging after a while with somewhat styled hair. "You looked peaceful for once, a rare sight these days, if you ask me… And besides, 16 hours? Boy, if you manage to sleep a whole day through, one could even think that perhaps you needed it..."

"Yes, well… Perhaps," Leo smiled slightly, choosing not to elaborate on it. Max was right; he hadn't been sleeping well lately.

He watched as Max strode over to the table casually, pouring coffee into two mugs and offering one to him, which Leo took gratefully. He winced as he took the first sip - it was tepid, overly bitter and lacking real cream. It was a source of caffeine, though, and so he drank it like a sailor new to whiskey. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Max staring at him in mild amusement as he shook his head, motioning for Leo to follow him.

"Come on," Max prompted, setting his cup down, "let's have some breakfast, hm?"

Mouth still full of the bleak beverage, Leo held up a hand mutely. "Not me," he said as soon as he had gulped down the remaining sips, smiling at Max sweetly. "Thank you for this… this coffee, though, if you can call it that..."

"Be grateful for coffee while you have it," Max scoffed, walking over to the fridge. "Judging by how the production seems to be going, you're getting a glass of warm water next time…"

"Maybe so," Leo smirked, though his face fell slightly at the mention of their show. "But still," he tried to sound cheerful again, "my statement stands. Not hungry."

Eyeing him suspiciously for a few moments, Max finally shrugged, turning away. "That's a shame, I actually fixed you breakfast," he threw over his shoulder nonchalantly. "I mean, it's just a bowl of cereal… But it's the only thing I can't burn, y'know?"

Merely shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Leo went into the bedroom, stopping in front of the long mirror to stare back at his reflection idly.

Before the day had even started for the masses, he was already here, awake and fully dressed. He had obviously fallen asleep in the clothes he'd been wearing when he came home yesterday; his usual dark grey suit and the beige raincoat that he loved to wear whenever the weather would allow it. Max didn't like him wearing that suit, he knew. Or the coat, for that matter. He always said that now that he was a producer- a _someone_ \- he should scrap those bland colors and shapeless clothes and go for something more daring. Something that would match who he really wants to be. Who he really is, deep inside. Trouble was, he didn't know.

Who _was_ he? A timid, spineless little accountant; that's who he was for as long as he could remember. Could a person really go from who he believed to be all his life to who he wanted to become in a matter of a few years? Maybe he could. Or maybe it was just a mental game that Max played with him to try and transform him into that 'someone'. Someone worthy of his profession. Someone who Max could always count on, no matter the obstacles. Someone full of life. A somebody...

He wanted to be like that. And he wanted to have somebody like that by his side, too. To have somebody who needs him and knows him a little too much, somebody who forces him to care. And by God, he did care. So why wouldn't he let Max really in?

Leo pulled the coat off of his shoulders slowly, letting it slide to the floor in a heap, soon followed by the suit jacket. Usually he'd itch to pick it up, straighten it out and carefully fold it, but right now he didn't feel the urge to do so. Perhaps he just had to stop worrying about those meaningless things and start living a little, like Max wanted him to.

But then again, maybe that was what he feared so much. Frightened of being truly alive, for with it came responsibility and risks, and more often than not, a great deal of disappointment. Allowing people to be so close to him was scary, though his mind constantly screamed that it's exactly what he needs. And if he gets hurt along the way, so what? At least he'd experience what it feels like to live without the "what if".

But, right now, it didn't matter. The only "what if" he had to worry about at the moment was that he'll be late to work. Again.

Quickly undressing and putting on a copper brown suit, - the one that brings out his eyes, or so Max had said-, he combed through his hair once, heading back to the living room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses as soon as he opened the door. He inhaled it earnestly and smirked to himself. It seemed that, after all, Max couldn't drink the lukewarm excuse of a beverage he had presented Leo with either.

"If you're waiting for an order, then yes, you can sit down," Max piped up without looking up from his bowl of cereal- the one that had apparently been meant for Leo- and reading today's newspaper. His hair was still rather messy from sleeping and he was wearing his checked pajamas, a little crumpled and untucked but still he managed to maintain his usual charm.

Leo smiled and walked over to him, sitting down on the edge of the sofa without a word. It was those quiet moments in the morning that he treasured so much; seeing Max in this unguarded state while he was still in the process of waking up was strangely endearing.

Leo felt his smile growing as he watched Max get a bit too focused on his morning paper, to the point that he missed his mouth and spilled a bit of the breakfast onto himself. Cursing under his breath, he set both things down on the table with a thud. Trying hard to suppress laughter, Leo took out a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket and sat close to Max, dabbing at the stained shirt gently.

Max observed him with a surprised but amused expression, but let Leo fuss over him without saying anything. Despite how strong their friendship had grown, it was a little unexpected; Leo wasn't usually the one to initiate such close contact out of nowhere. Leo seemed to notice, too, for he suddenly let his hands fall and moved away, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, quickly searching for an excuse to escape Max's judgemental stare. "I should…" he looked away, moving to get up, "I should go to work."

"Wait," Max grabbed his elbow, dragging him back down. "I can literally hear you thinking, so spill it. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

At first Leo tried to act clueless. He scoffed and raised his eyebrows questioningly, opening his mouth to answer as his mind scrambled for a satisfying lie. But then something stopped him. When did he become so quick to hide the truth? That wasn't how he would usually act. Or was it? Maybe he really hadn't changed that much from his cowardly self.

He took a breath and began hesitantly. "It's just… You know, these past few days-"

"Is it the production?" Max shot, interrupting his confession.

A little astounded, Leo blinked a few times, but recollected himself quickly. Now was the moment. He would just tell him, there was nothing to it. _The cast is leaving. They are overwhelmed. Roger wants to cancel the show. As a matter of fact, we all do._

He closed his eyes to steady himself and be over with it. But before he could spit it out, he was interrupted yet again, this time by a hacking cough that ripped through the room unexpectedly.

Leo's eyes shot open as he jumped at the sound, suddenly forgetting all that he wanted to say. Instead he immediately went to Max, who turned away from him, coughing into his sleeve rather violently.

Leo's hands just hovered above his back helplessly, not quite daring to touch him but itching to do something.

After what felt like an eternity- but was probably just a few seconds- Max stopped, holding up a hand. "Sorry," he cleared his throat, offering a small smile upon seeing Leo's worried expression. "What did you wanna say?"

Again, Leo hesitated. What was he supposed to say? Max obviously still wasn't well. He couldn't burden him with this on top of everything. Not now.

"Nothing," Leo finally answered with the best smile he could accomplish. "It… It's just a little stressful right now. As always, after all... Don't worry about it now... Get some rest instead."

"Ah, that won't do." Max waved his hand as he got up, walking over to the closet room.

Confused, Leo frowned and jumped up as well, following close behind. "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" Max jeered and shot him a look over his shoulder before disappearing into the room.

Leo stared at the closed doors for several moments, dumbfounded. What was that? He had barely said anything.

Whatever that meant, he had neither the time nor wish to interrogate him right now. Shaking his head, Leo turned away, only stopping by the window to take in the view one last time before he would be off to work.

Outside it was still as black as night; only by the clock could he tell the difference between the time to sleep and the time to rise. He knew that the dawn would come on his way to the theatre, lighting the streets first in monochrome and then with subtle hues of colour, but he would be behind his desk long before the day is bright. Suddenly he wished for the multitude of vibrant hues from the city parks, the sky and even passing cars. Under the artificial glow of the street-lamps they were just sallow and dull. He also knew that by the time he leaves for home, it will be well onto twilight. He could only hope for a sunset.

The clicking of a doorknob ripped him out of his daydream. Sighing softly, he looked over to the closet, only to be baffled anew.

Max, on the other hand, barely spared him a look as he walked over to the hanger, fully dressed in a dark blue suit, and took his felt coat. When he threw it over his shoulders, he bent over to tie his shoes, humming an upbeat melody from their current musical.

Leo followed him with his eyes, mouth slightly agape.

"What, pray tell, do you think you're doing?" he asked slowly, disbelieving but aware of Max's plans.

Immediately Max held his hands up, not giving him space to protest any further.

"Shush, I know, I know. I should be in bed. I should get better first. I shouldn't go outside. Good, I know. Now that we've sorted that out, how about you grab your hat and go before we're both late?"

"Grab my…" Leo began asking but trailed off soon, a look of horror suddenly appearing on his face.

Max frowned at the abrupt change, knowing that panicked look all too well. "Leo?" he asked carefully.

"Grab my hat," Leo finished with that same alarmed expression, eyes wide.

"What?" Max raised his eyebrows, genuinely puzzled.

"My hat!" Leo repeated, louder this time, as he rushed to the hatstand, frantically searching through it.

"What's with your hat?"

"I don't have it…"

"You don't…" Max began, frowning. "What?"

"I've had it yesterday…" Leo continued, getting more desperate by the second. "I've had it!"

"Alright, I see, just calm down," Max reached out to try and soothe him, but it was to no avail.

"How can I?" Leo shouted, shaking his hand off. "It was your hat… My hat! How could I just-"

"Leo," Max said firmly and planted both hands on his shoulders to stop the ramble. "Slow down and think. Where did you last have it?"

Finally Leo composed himself enough to try and remember. First he thought of the theatre, but dismissed that right away. He was almost sure that he still had his hat when he went to the lunch break. His heart skipped a beat. The lunch break... Of course. He must have forgotten it in the café. He had been so set on getting away from Perry that he had left it behind.

He passed a hand down his face, weighing his options. Chances were, the hat was still there or hidden by the staff. Or, the more probable scenario, Perry had taken it upon himself to look after it until Leo realizes his mistake and finds him to get his hat back. Brilliant.

Of course, he couldn't tell that to Max. It would have given away too much.

"Um, I… I think it could be in the theatre, or-"

"Wonderful!" Max clasped his hands together, already pushing him out the door before Leo could react. "We'll look in the theatre. Surely it'll be there, hm? Where else, after all?"

"Yeah…" Leo mumbled hollowly, allowing Max to lead them away. Again, he was too astounded at how easily he had lied. "Surely."

* * *

The morning faded in like a scene from bad theatre production. The cast stomped about, slammed doors and projected their voices as far as their lips, then sulked because no one replied. It would be funny if this same play wasn't repeated every morning at 7 am. But it was, and Carmen had a bit-part to play with little to no lines. All he needed to do was trail behind Roger, nod, agree, and repeat it tomorrow. And the day after that, too.

Bored, he sat behind the desk usually occupied by Max and Leo, -who, once again, didn't show up on time-, and supported his head with both hands, lazily watching the scene onstage. People were rushing back and forth with no real aim, just to create the illusion of doing something. Roger looked frustrated as ever, but not as much as before. Even he had more or less resigned.

Still, Carmen was set on staying positive. It was just a passing period, he knew, and it was an unavoidable part of the showbiz life, as Max liked to call it. For the most part, it was exciting; knowing all those talented people, laughing at countless things going wrong in rehearsals and spending most of his time surrounded by music and dance. That was the magical part. The other was… Well, this.

Swinging back in his chair, he sighed melodramatically, staring a hole into the door as if that'd make Leo arrive sooner. He was waiting for him like mercy, knowing that when things got dull at work, Leo would always manage to entertain him, if only by making little mischievous comments about the cast. He was always so adorable when trying to make people laugh that even Max had no objections to Carmen occupying his seat from time to time and having Leo to himself.

As if on cue, the door into the auditorium swung open. Carmen sat up quickly, almost falling backwards in the process. When he balanced the chair enough to keep it in place, he grinned, ready to greet his friend.

Instead, he was met with disappointment.

It came as a slight shock to be greeted by Max's smug smirk where he expected Leo's shy smile, but he was soon calmed when the former accountant appeared behind him, following Max like a loyal dog. The two men exchanged a few words before parting, each walking in the opposite direction. Much to his delight, Max went straight to Roger while Leo shuffled over to where Carmen was seated, greeting him warmly with a small hug.

"Well well well," Carmen began when they let go of each other, smirking teasingly. "If someone isn't getting Max's manners… Whole 16 minutes late!"

"Oh please, you sound like my boss…" Leo complained and plopped down next to him. Then he chuckled, correcting himself. "Well, my old boss, that is."

"Do I? Would your old boss do this?" Thus he put both legs on the table, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head.

"What are you…" Leo laughed but glanced to the stage nervously. "You shouldn't do that!"

"And who's gonna stop me?" Carmen asked, wiggling around to get into a more comfortable position. "Oh my... Do you think Max would mind? Well, let's see... Hey! Ma-"

Before he could draw any more attention to them, Leo clasped a hand over his mouth quickly.

"Shhh!" He silenced him, unable to hold back a grin. "He won't let you sit here again, you know that, right?"

"He can try and stop me," Carmen scoffed, speaking just loud enough so that it would reach the stage.

"Really…" Leo still smiled but his face seemed to fall just a little. "Put them down."

"Maybe you should put them up," Carmen challenged.

"Maybe you should listen to the producer," Leo joked back but got up, seemingly done with the discussion.

Carmen crossed his arms, not ready to give up yet. "Or what?"

"Or," Leo walked around the table and tossed a thick pile of files in front of Carmen, "I'll make you fill those out."

"Make me." Carmen winked and tossed them back to him.

"Carmen…" Leo sneered and shook his head. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Carmen continued pushing just to see how far their bickering could go. And besides, Leo's been under such pressure lately; a little loosening up would certainly do him no harm.

"Alright, alright, let's stop…" Leo smiled at him sweetly, but Carmen could have sworn that he heard a slight edge in his voice.

"Come on now, the Leo I know isn't such a bore…" Carmen replied, trying to put him back into that jesting, careless mood. "As a matter of fact-"

"Carmen!"

At long last, Carmen fell silent.

He stared at Leo in mild shock for several moments; this was the second outburst in just two days. That was certainly out of character.

When he collected himself again, he cleared his throat and, without a word, put his legs back on the ground. Careful not to aggravate him any further, he took the files and opened the one on top.

"Come on," he said gently, patting the chair next to him. "Sit down, we'll look at this together."

Leo just looked back at him, the remorse apparent in his eyes. Putting one hand to his forehead, he took a breath.

"Don't be sorry." Carmen knew what he wanted to say before he even had the chance to open his mouth. "I pushed you. It's okay, you snapped, I get it." Seeing Leo's reluctance he put on the kindest expression he could accomplish and opened his arms widely. "Now come here, you!"

Hesitantly Leo complied and turned his attention to the paper as well, but Carmen knew that he just did that to avoid his eyes.

Carmen sighed. "You're _dying_ to say it, aren't you?"

"Yes…" Leo let out a breath and nodded vigorously, but at least he smiled again. "I am sorry, really. I just, you know…"

"I know." Carmen simply patted his back, choosing not to elaborate on it. A change of topic seemed in place.

He shifted in his seat. "So… I see that Max is alright with the news?"

Again, Leo's head shot up, eyes alert. "What news?"

"You know, about the-"

He didn't have time to finish, as he suddenly heard loud stomping approaching them from the front.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

They both turned sharply at the exclamation.

Max was storming towards them with Roger following close behind, who didn't look any less irritated. The only difference was that his anger was apparently directed at Max. Carmen turned to Leo, lips slightly parted.

"You didn't tell him?" he asked in a loud whisper.

"I…" Leo looked from Carmen to the nearing Max with wide eyes.

"Leo!" Carmen barked, already knowing the answer.

"Cancel the premiere? Have you lost your mind?!" Max soon joined in, planting both hands on the desk in front of Leo, who jumped back instinctively.

"I- I didn't…" Leo stuttered, looking to Roger helplessly, who just threw his hands up.

"I thought you told him already, like you said you would!"

"Well, y-yes, but I-"

"But what?" Max cut in sharply. "You thought it wasn't important? That just because I was away for _three days_ you can make decisions without me?"

"Well, can't I?" Leo suddenly lost his cool as well. "This is my show, too. Don't act like you're the only one who has a say in this!"

"Don't try to shut me out of this, boy," Max growled, his tone dangerously low. "I've been here since day one. I'm more a part of this than you are!"

"Is that so?" Leo sprung up from his seat sharply, startling everyone. "How can I become 'a part of this' if you won't let me?"

"Leo, I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you..." Max passed a hand across his face, closing his eyes shortly. "You clearly don't understand what's at stake."

"Of course," Leo laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. "I know nothing and you know everything. How typical. Well, spare me!"

"Spare you what?" Max shouted now. "The truth? The fact that you have no idea what you're doing?"

Both Roger and Carmen stayed silent as the two producers exchanged bitter words back and forth, not wishing to add fuel to the fire. The issue was, Max had a point. And as much as Carmen would want to side with Leo, he did make a mistake. He was supposed to tell Max about everything that went on in the theatre in the time of his absence, especially about matters as important as these, which he hadn't. And the more Max talked, the more Carmen realized that maybe cancellation wasn't the only way here. Maybe they had all been wrong. So, he tried to stay out of it, only exchanging worried glances with Roger who stood behind the arguing pair, arms crossed.

It was only when he saw Max push Leo, even if only slightly, that Carmen decided it was enough.

"Leave him alone!" Carmen stood between the two, pulling Leo behind himself protectively. "This situation is not Leo's fault. It's not anyone's!"

"Stay out of it, Scott!" Max warned. And it was effective. Everyone fell silent for a second, somewhat shocked. Max - or anyone, for that matter- hardly ever used Carmen's real name. It was a sure indicator that he shouldn't push his buttons any further; so he didn't. "You knew about this too when you 'visited' me, didn't you? And you stayed silent. You're as wrong as him." He pointed to Leo, who didn't argue back anymore. His gaze was fixated on the ground, and Carmen could tell that he was struggling to control his emotions.

Roger must've sensed that too, for he decided to join in the brawl. "Max, stop it. I agree that Leo should have told you earlier, but don't blame it all on him. What difference does one day make?"

"What difference does it make?" Max jeered, turning to Roger. "I'll tell you what difference it makes. You can have it your way. This whole production, I leave it to you; do whatever you want with it. I'm done here…"

That made Leo look up.

"Max…" he said hoarsely, reaching out to touch his arm.

"And you," Max shook his hand off as he rounded on him. "There you have it; I'm letting you be a part of it. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Carmen watched the scene with bated breath. For a moment it looked like Leo would deny it, or start crying, or shouting, or… whatever it was that Leo does when he's upset.

But he did none of that.

"Yes," he finally answered and raised his chin defiantly. "Yes, it is."

Max stared at him disbelievingly for a couple of seconds, but then he scoffed, nodding.

"That's great, then," he said and lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. He turned to leave. "You know," he stopped once more, meeting Leo's eyes, "maybe there's a reason you've lost that hat. Apparently you didn't honour it enough..."

And with that he walked away, leaving them alone.

* * *

His coat was not heavy enough for that wind blast. Hundreds of people hurried out of their cars right into the countless buildings all around. They wore formal clothes, and were only in the cold for the few seconds that it took them to get to the doors.

Leo searched for such a building, too.

After Max had stormed off, he couldn't stay in the theatre either. He had quickly offered some half-coherent apologies to Roger and Carmen before running yet again, hopping on the first subway going to his destination.

Once out of the subway he navigated himself only by intersection and memory. Otherwise it would be impossible to know where he is. He moved along in the thick crowd, feeling as if he was several inches shorter than everyone else. He couldn't see the bright shop signs, or the buildings to orient him - only backpacks, coats and hair. He was frequently jostled, but then again, he doubted that most of those people even saw him. With the smell of burned fast food oil he remembered he needed to turn right next and start to weave his way over.

The crowd parted around a newspaper dispenser but he failed to join the right path and was instead left smooshed up against it for a few moments, his suit brushing up against the dirty glass. How he hated to be lost in those crowds. Usually Max would be there to pull him away when way too many people got way too close to him, but not this time. Instead he had to inch sideways until once again he was in the current. Leo veered into the next street and finally recognized the place.

He stopped there to take a breath, feeling relief and dread wash over him at the same time.

Across the street stood a large, tall building with two towers and many, many windows. He had seen it a thousand times before, but only today did he truly look at it. The exterior was pretty, he had to admit. The interior would be too; if only so many unpleasant memories weren't hidden behind the pretty facade.

Not wasting any more time, Leo sighed and crossed the street. Once inside, he was met with a familiar sight; marble walls and ornaments as far as the eye could reach. He hadn't been there for so long, and yet, the atmosphere of that place alone never failed to make him nauseous. He proceeded cautiously.

But Perry would be here, he was certain. Perry and his hat, that is.

Every day, all the accountants were allowed to claim one "toilet break", as Marks always liked to snarl. And as clueless as Leo could have seemed to his coworkers, he was observant. So observant that he knew exactly at what time Perry liked to take his break.

He glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was now 8:28am. In about 30 minutes, Perry would get up from his desk, close his books and leave, only to return 15 minutes later, smelling like cheap vending machine coffee and cigarettes. He also knew where to wait so that he wouldn't miss him; Several years ago, Leo had joined him for the pause out of pure curiosity, and they had ended up sitting on the stairs in front of the back door for employees, thinking of many creative ways to call their insufferable boss. Leo felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at the memory. Thinking back, it was probably the most pleasant conversation he's had with anyone in that firm in all his years working there. How poetic.

Still, his heart started racing at the mere thought of having to talk to him, especially after their little encounter yesterday. But he had to do it. With a bit of luck, Perry was indeed in the possession of his prized producer's hat. And if not… then at least he'd have a chance to apologize for his hurried exit back at the café.

He just had to get his hat and go, nothing more or less. Bracing himself, Leo walked down the same corridor that he'd walked through every day for almost 15 years of his life. Needless to say, he didn't miss it one bit. Unlike the rest of the building, the corridor was dark, unkept and dirty. When he passed the door leading to the large room where his working desk used to be, he shuddered internally, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock that was to come afterwards. From around the corner, a poorly-lit figure appeared. Leo didn't even hear them coming. At first, he didn't think much of it. It was the unmistakable smell of tobacco that made him come to his senses.

Marks.

Quickly turning his face away, Leo scrambled for the nearest door, until his hand finally found a handle. He turned it without thinking where it led. When the door fell shut noisily, he held his breath, listening to the footsteps on the other side. They seemed to halt momentarily, and Leo felt the hairs on his neck stand when he heard them coming closer. But nothing happened. Just as quickly as the steps came closer, they retreated again. Thankfully, Marks must have failed to recognize him. Leo let out the breath he'd been holding, at last becoming aware of the cold air that surrounded him. Confused, he looked up, only to see the foggy sky above.

"You again?"

Leo almost fell down the stairs at the voice.

"Damn!" he cursed, whirling around and pressing his back into the door. He stared down at the person on the stairs in surprise. "Perry?"

"You know that's not my name, right?" the accountant asked, looking up at him quite unimpressed.

"What?" Leo squealed, not quite grasping what had just happened yet.

"Nevermind," Perry smiled and held his hand out to him. "Wanna sit?"

Reluctantly Leo did as he was told. He found himself unable to do anything but stare like an oaf. All of sudden he forgot everything he was there for in the first place.

Perry must have found that funny, for he chuckled and took a pull at his cigar. "Man, what was that?" he nodded to the door.

"Uh, yeah, funny thing..." Leo tried to laugh too but it probably just came out sounding nervous. "I wanted to find you and then… Then someone rounded the corner, and guess who it was?"

"Find me?" Perry simply asked again, never losing his smile. But there was something sad behind it, Leo noticed in surprise. Even his voice was much softer and quieter as opposed to his usual excited chatter.

"Ah, yes, but first… What did you mean that it's not your name?"

"Oh, so you really didn't know?" he looked a little taken aback, but still spoke pleasantly. "I see... Perry is just a nickname, actually."

"Really?" Leo raised his eyebrows. He genuinely had no idea; he'd never heard anyone call him anything else but Perry.

"Really," Perry confirmed, looking quite amused. "You see, no one calls me that, but my name is Oliver… Oliver Peregrine."

"Oliver Peregrine?" Leo repeated, feeling quite dumb for not having known before.

"A stupid name, right?" he smirked knowingly. "Well, that's why I don't use it. You know, we kind of share the same fate, don't we? I haven't heard anyone calling you by your first name either, to be honest."

"Yeah, kind of…" Leo had to smile. He never knew that someone noticed. "And your name is not stupid… Not at all. I like it, actually. Sounds royal."

"Thank you," Perry answered kindly, but once again Leo couldn't help but notice his eyes. He looked tired in a way. But then again, it was the morning.

A moment of silence passed between them, the quiet whistle of the wind being the only sound in the small yard. Leo shifted uncomfortably, looking down to his shoes. He should probably say something.

"So… What are you doing here? I know it's not my business... But shouldn't you be at work?"

Again Perry turned to him, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Funny. I wanted to ask you the same thing."

"Oh… Touché," Leo smirked. He stopped to think how to put it. "I guess I felt like I owe you an apology, and-"

"An apology?" Perry interrupted, his face softening.

Leo looked down at his hands, wringing them together. "Yes. Yesterday, you were so polite to me, and I was just… I don't know, I shouldn't have turned you down like that. I've thought about what you said. A lot. And I figured that I didn't even give you a chance to properly explain what you wanted from me… I'm sorry, I should have."

"It doesn't matter..." Perry shook his head, his smile wavering.

"No, it does." Leo turned to him fully now, looking directly into his eyes. "I know that it's not easy. Working here, I mean… And you were right. I shouldn't act like it never happened just because-"

"It doesn't matter," Perry repeated, more urgent this time. Suddenly he didn't look so positive anymore.

Leo frowned. "But... it mattered to you just yesterday."

"It doesn't matter, okay?!"

Leo pulled back, startled. What the hell?

He was almost ready to get defensive, but then he noticed that something was wrong. Perry suddenly bent over, holding his head between both hands and shutting his eyes tightly.

"Hey..." Leo reached out but didn't dare to touch him. "What happened?"

Again Perry removed his hands from his face and looked up. Leo felt his stomach drop upon seeing the glassiness of his eyes.

"He fired me…"

* * *

_**A/N:** _ _A little fun fact: Perry is based of one of the accountants actually showed in the movie. For those who are interested, it's the dark haired guy in black glasses sitting one row behind Leo, to his left xD_

_Also... Did anyone notice the little nod to LobbyLane's story universe? ;))_


	5. Coming Up Roses

_**A/N:** _ _For some reason, this chapter took much more time than the others. Sorry about that! But, to compensate, it's also considerably longer than the rest ;))_

_A little note to my readers and reviewers: THANK YOU!! You make me the happiest :) Also, one person asked if Perry is in the show, so I'm here to answer: Technically he is! He's based on one of the accountants in the movie, but he's mainly my OC as he has no lines there :)_

_Without further ado, enjoy and lemme know what you think! ^^_

* * *

The simple room gave away more of Perry's personality than he probably meant it to.

Everything in there was functional. The mantle was where he put all his keys. A wrench set and a full ashtray rested on the coffee table. Under the small eating table was a pack of beer and a couple of books and magazines. Leo guessed that the fridge-freezer held meals for one and he had more clothes in his laundry basket than in his closet. He wasn't entirely hopeless though, for he clearly knew one end of a vacuum cleaner from the other; the tiny apartment looked quite tidy as a whole. All kinds of posters enriched the otherwise blank walls, along with a small photo of a man that looked to be around his age; a brother, perhaps. He had never decorated, that was for sure, but then who paints a rental place? Leo knew he wouldn't.

What had hit him the most the moment he had entered, though, was the omnipresent smell of cigarettes. The smoke permeated every little thing, every cotton-fibre, carrying it's odour long after the flames were extinguished. Of course, it was nothing unusual; more than a half of the theatre crew smoked too, after all. Still, he couldn't help the single cough that had escaped his mouth when he inhaled deeply, the acrid smell making his eyes water.

Perry turned to him then, smiling shyly; not a look Leo had seen on his face before. He couldn't help but smile back, for he was grateful to be there that moment. From what he'd gathered, Perry didn't bring people into his apartment often, if ever, yet he had agreed to let him stay for a while without hesitation. And even though Leo suspected that it was more out of practicality than hospitibility, he appreciated it nonetheless- they didn't want to freeze on the cold stairs in front of Whitehall & Marks, nor was Leo quite ready to go home and face Max and the confrontation that was inevitable. So, without ever having planned it, he now found himself in an unfamiliar apartment somewhere in the middle of Brooklyn, with a man whose true name he had learned barely an hour ago.

That was certainly an unexpected turn of events.

"Pretty fancy, eh?" Perry was the first to break the silence.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and eyed Leo curiously.

"Oh, I'm not the one to judge, really..." Leo chuckled in response and turned his gaze away from the room, realizing that he had been staring too much. "I used to live like that as well… Actually just several blocks away. Did you know? We must have rode the same train every day, too. How could we not notice? Strange, isn't it? I mean, knowing each other for over a decade yet never really crossing paths… Don't you think it's curious?" He shot one question after the other. Then, realizing his frenzied behaviour, he cut himself off at once, one hand digging into his pocket instinctively.

"Woah," Perry snickered. "And they say _I'm_ the chatterbox…"

"Sorry," Leo mumbled. "I- I'm not usually like that. So talkative, I mean. It's just a little, you know, a little unexpected… I was supposed to be at rehearsals right now, yet here I am-"

"Ah ah ah, slow down," Perry held up a hand, skipping over to a small plastic table in the middle of the room and plopped down on one of the folding chairs, motioning for Leo to do the same. Reluctantly he complied, but the feeling of not belonging didn't go away. Even though reason told him that he was better off here, away from the busy theatre, and away from all the worries it brought, his gut said otherwise. But then again, his gut had always told him to run away. From everything.

So, he sat down obediently, giving Perry a chance to speak whatever was on his mind. For heaven's sake, the man had just lost his job, his very _livelihood_ ; the least he could do for him was keep him company.

"You, my friend, need to loosen up," Perry began anew, pointing a finger at him with each word.

Leo scoffed in response, a glint of wonder appearing in his eyes.

"What?" Perry asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up as well.

"You sound just like Max right now…"

"I do?" Perry laughed while shrugging his suit jacket off, throwing it across a nearby armchair carelessly. "Well, I don't know you long enough to judge… But it seems to me that you have a type."

"A _type_?" Leo couldn't hide his astonishment.

"You know, people you tend to weigh towards," Perry winked.

Leo just kept staring.

"I'm teasing you," Perry finally sighed, that knowing smirk of his reappearing.

"Oh..." he merely breathed out a laugh, chewing on his bottom lip.

Perry gave him a strange look, but said nothing. "So, this Max... Will I get to meet him someday?"

Leo's head immediately shot up, eyes widening. "Meet him?"

"Sure," Perry replied shortly, digging through his pockets for something. Leo frowned as he pulled out yet another pack of cigarettes. Did he have an infinite amount of those? "I mean, come on, I'm friends with the partner of Max Bialystock. Wouldn't it be a crime not to encounter him?"

"Friends?" Leo repeated slowly, ignoring the other part of the question altogether.

"Are we not?" he returned the question, looking unbothered as he brought the cigarette up to his lips, reaching for a lighter.

"I… I don't know," Leo admitted, watching the flame flare up and die down again.

"Well," Perry shrugged, taking a long pull. "I think you'd be a great friend."

"Would I?" Leo muttered sluggishly and stared into space, suddenly taken by an unexplained wave of heaviness.

He shouldn't be there.

"Are you okay?" Perry inquired carefully after a moment of silence, taking note of Leo's faraway look. "Listen, I didn't mean to be too straightforward, if that's what-"

"No, no…" Leo shook his head quickly, closing his eyes for a moment to sort his thoughts. "You're not. There are just some… some issues that I've left unresolved, and now you, and I…"

"Me?" Perry leaned forward, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Yes, you… Look," Leo rubbed over his face once, standing up. The chair made a terrible screeching sound as it was pulled across the floor. "I want to help you; I really do. But I don't know… I don't know how. I need some clarity. I need to know what happened at work, I need to know who you are, but instead… We're just sitting here, pretending that everything's fine." He stopped in front of an armchair, leaning against its headrest. "Well, it's not... I know it's not. _You_ know it's not. So, what are we doing?"

There was a long pause as Perry processed what Leo said, his usual peppiness replaced by quiet deliberation.

Leo looked down, fidgeting with his sleeve. He felt like a scoundrel for sparking hope in him only to crush it moments later. That wasn't how he wanted Perry to view him. He wasn't a scoundrel. He tried not to be. And yet, somehow, he always ended up doing the wrong thing. Was _this_ the wrong thing? But then, how could he know what the _right_ thing was? How could anyone?

"You don't have to help me…" Perry finally found the right words.

Plain and simple. He didn't have to do anything. He could walk away that very moment and never look back. It was almost an invitation to do so. It would have been so much easier. But still...

Leo shook his head.

"I know. But I want to."

"Why?"

"Because," Leo lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug, "I understand. Because it could have been me in your place. Because it's right. Just… because."

Perry nodded. Leo guessed that meant he understood. "So what do you wanna do?" His voice was quiet. Almost hesitant.

Once again, Leo gave a short, humourless chuckle. "Don't you see? That's the problem. What _do_ we do?"

Perry didn't have an answer to that.

As Leo scanned his face for a reaction the silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. He expected him to come up with a witty response, present him with some clever idea or simply shrug, but he did none of those things. Instead he got up, walked over to his desk and started scribbling something into what looked like an accounting folder. He had just offered him a helping hand and he was _accounting_. Talk about good manners.

Just as Leo was about to get offended, the sound of paper ripping broke through the quiet and instantly everything came to life again. The room seemed to burst with renewed energy as Perry sprung up, almost skipping over to Leo with the little scrap of torn paper clutched in his trembling hand- from excitement, Leo hoped- and a determined glint in his clever, sharp eyes. He held the paper out in front of him, practically showing it into his face. The sudden, 180 degree turn of his behavior from sulking to practically buzzing with elan was like being struck with a lightning; the sky being dark and gloomy at first, only to come alive with a blaze of electricity coming out of nowhere.

Leo blinked once or twice, still trying to recover from the unexpected change. Then, slowly, warily, he took the paper from him, squinting at the short message written on it. He didn't have his reading glasses on hand, but he was somehow able to make out the handwriting, which was nothing like his own. While Leo wrote in neat cursive, his letters usually inclined a bit too much to the left- a minor defect he simply blamed on his left handedness- Perry's penmanship was terribly spidery and illegible.

Nonetheless, he did manage to decipher it, even if with some difficulty.

"Tillary Street & Adams Street, Brooklyn, 11201," he read out loud. He looked up, confused. "What's that?"

"An address," Perry deadpanned, a strangely mischievous smirk playing on his lips as his eyes bore deep into Leo's.

"Surprisingly so," Leo responded dryly. "What address? Wait... Isn't this where the Brooklyn Bridge starts?"

To that, Perry only nodded, his grin widening. Instantly Leo got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. What could be so exciting about a bridge? They surely wouldn't find a solution to their problems there. Well, the bridge was pretty high above the East River, so unless he planned to- No. Leo shook his head quickly, mentally kicking himself for even getting such thoughts.

"I see… What for?"

"Meet me there." Perry winked, "Tomorrow, say, 11pm?"

"What?" It took him a moment to process what he had said, but once he did, he immediately knew that it was out of question. "I-I cannot… Max would know, I can't possibly just-"

"Oh, come on," Perry's tone changed to pleading with a hint of urgency. "He doesn't _have_ to know."

"How?" Leo scoffed. "We _live_ together, don't forget."

"So?" He still pressed, his eagerness never subsiding. "That's a detail, you can just say you're going for a walk, or a drink, or visiting some friend of yours, or something… I mean, it's not like he watches every step you make, is it?"

Leo caught himself wincing slightly at the last question. _Was_ Max watching every step he makes? Maybe he was. But then, he didn't mean to be controlling, or possessive, or anything of the kind. Right? It was simply to keep him safe, and, being honest with himself, he couldn't say that he _wanted_ to go anywhere without Max. He has had his share of going everywhere alone, whenever he pleased, but that was only because there had been no one who could join him, or care if he didn't come back, for that matter. So now that he _did_ have that someone who _did_ care about him, he wasn't too eager to ruin his trust by lying about his whereabouts. But then again, he was already here, in this apartment, without telling anyone. Maybe it wouldn't make much of a difference.

"Well, I guess, but I doubt that he would buy it… I mean, why would I visit 'a friend' at almost midnight? And besides, he knows my friends… He could ask them if he wanted to, and he _would_ want to."

"Why wouldn't you? If you happen to have some close friends at whose house you can show up practically whenever, you could actually visit them, just for a while, so that they can't say that you weren't there. It doesn't even have to be so late. You'll turn up at 10 and by 11 you are off to the bridge!" He spoke with such enthusiasm that Leo almost felt bad for turning him down. Well, not almost. He definitely felt bad.

"Yes, that's another thing…" Leo brushed through his hair once which was instantaneously damp, leaving it disheveled. "Why so late? Are we planning on murdering someone?"

"Like who?" Perry snickered. "Marks, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Leo smirked back, although that thought did cross his mind for a split second; and he dismissed it right away, reminding himself that he was talking to an accountant here, not a serial killer. "But seriously. Why?"

"Pedestrians, my friend. Tourists, people going to work, beggars… All those people cross the bridge day and night, but if I've learned something in all my years there, then it's that most of them are afraid to go over it in the late evening. Even less so in the autumn. We won't be disturbed, I guarantee you."

"Disturbed?" Leo squeaked, feeling a bit too much like a prey being lured into the woods by a predator, about to be devoured. "Disturbed from what?"

"Okay, what's the deal? You don't trust me?" Perry's face fell a little, but he looked at him quite amused. He probably sounded ridiculously paranoid.

"Should I?" Leo answered his question with a question.

"I'll leave that up to you." A corner of his mouth lifted, but then he grew more serious again, as if to prove his pure intentions. "But if you need to know, I just wanna talk. I want to give you the clarity you asked for, nothing more or less. Deal?" He held his hand out.

Leo still hesitated, staring at the hand and weighing what aftermaths this late night outing could possibly have, or if there would be any at all. Or if he could indeed pretend to visit Roger and Carmen. Or if Max would even notice.

"You _do_ have a way to get around your Max, don't you?"

Although a little puzzled at the use of "your" in connection to Max, he nodded.

"So you can come?" That hopefulness in Perry's voice returned.

"Technically, yes."

"And practically?"

He was tempted. Very tempted, even, for his curiosity often took the better of him.

"I-I don't know…" And he didn't.

"What is there to know?" Again, the hopefulness was replaced by urgency.

"I'm just not sure this is a good idea."

"What isn't?"

"All of it. The place, the hour, the spontaneity. Don't you think it's a bit too… personal?" At least it felt so to Leo. It was all so rushed. He barely knew what was going on anymore, all the events from the last two days- it was inexplicably hard to believe that it had been _just_ two days- meddling into one cluster of conflict and uncertainty.

And just as quickly as Perry's excitement had come, it vanished again. His features hardened, mouth set in a tight line as he nodded briskly, withdrawing his outstretched hand and turning away from him.

"Okay. Sorry." He spoke low, and sharp. Something in it sent a shiver down Leo's spine, feeling that pang of guilt in his chest again.

"What are you sorry for?" He didn't dare to raise his voice above a whisper.

Perry spun around to face him again, raising his hands in half-hearted surrender. "I crossed the line."

Leo closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. The problem wasn't Perry's spontaneity; it was Leo's cowardice.

"You didn't cross the line…"

"No?" Perry piped up, letting his hands fall back down. His eyes seemed to brighten in that split second. "Great! See you tomorrow, and don't forget to bring your coat; it's gonna be cold!"

He flashed him a triumphant grin, indicating that it wasn't up for a discussion, and strode over to his kitchen with a spring in his step. The only reaction Leo was able to give was a short, baffled laugh.

So, without any valuable argument to add, he stuffed the paper into his breast pocket and made his way towards the exit. He was too impressed by Perry's ability to get around him to even try to protest further. He would simply do as he asked and be over with it. And, with a bit of fortune on their side, they could even figure out a solution to this mess along the way.

There was nothing to it.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, wondering whether he should show some sort of an agreement to their plans or if his lack of protest was indication enough, when Perry stuck his head out from the kitchen, a malicious glint in his eye.

"Oh, one more thing..." He stepped into the living room, fleetingly waving a round black object in Leo's direction. "If you show up, I'll give you this chic hat back!"

* * *

It turned out that, much to his surprise, sneaking out from Max hadn't been the hard part; he had merely shrugged when Leo had told him he'll be going to Roger and Carmen's for the evening, which gave him a very clear message of Max still being mad with him. So, not wanting to push his luck, he hadn't tried to talk to him any further and simply left. And secretly, he was grateful that he hadn't asked any questions- it made his whole plan much easier. But, he had learned, nothing was ever _that_ easy. In the end, it had been convincing Carmen that his visit was purely unbiased that had turned out to be more trouble than expected.

"So, enlighten us, - and don't you dare to make something up - what brings you here?" Carmen asked him as soon as they were settled on their overly-cushioned, overly-glamorous sofa.

Leo tried to laugh.

"What do you mean, 'make something up?'"

"It's late," he replied with easy self-assurance. "You never show up this late."

"It's not late," Leo defended himself. "I usually stay up much longer than that."

"Staying up is one thing," Carmen continued, clearly unimpressed by his poor attempts. "Staying up and going all the way here, _without Max_ , may I note, is another."

"Max didn't want to come."

"Didn't he want to come or didn't _you_ want him to come?"

"Why wouldn't I want him to come?" He was baffled. How on Earth was Carmen able to figure it all out this quickly? But he couldn't know. He hadn't told him anything about Perry. He hadn't told anyone.

"Because, if I remember right, you two had fought quite a bit the last time I saw you together." He shot him a glare that was both sympathetic and sceptical. "Isn't that so?"

"You were there," Leo snapped, clenching his jaw. "You know what happened."

"I do," Carmen confirmed, his features softening. He leaned over then, laying his hand over Leo's. He had to keep himself from flinching away. "That's why I want to know why you are _here_ , when you should be at home, figuring out whatever problems you two may have."

That was where Roger interjected. An act Leo was incredibly grateful for, as it had brought him out of that uncomfortable loop of lies, at least for a moment; A moment in which he would make up more, better thought-out lies. Oh, God. What had become of him?

"Darling, I think you are reading into this too much." Roger plopped down on the small sofa right next to Leo, kind of forcing him to be squished between the two of them, leaving him no room for potential escape. He tried to discreetly inch forward to gain a bit more space, but it had little to no effect. Instead, Roger put one warm arm around his shoulders, bringing him even closer. "Leo is always welcome here, no matter the hour or reason." He turned his attention from Carmen to him, giving him a broad, bright smile. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Of course he is," Carmen retorted before Leo could even say anything, touching his back as well as if to mimic Roger. "I never said he's not. I just want to make sure that everything's fine."

"Why wouldn't it be? Look at him, you're just distressing him with this police interrogation." Roger tightened his grip around his shoulders, in an attempt to reassure him, Leo guessed, but it really had quite the opposite effect. "Is he distressing you, Leo?"

By then, Leo could feel his palms starting to sweat, that all-too-familiar tense feeling settling in. It was being put into situations like these, where he was forced to take sides, that unsettled him more than Carmen bombarding him with questions.

He gulped, squirming in his spot.

"Yes, um, Roger, you are-"

"Right?" Roger offered with a triumphant grin. "Of course I'm right." Then, glancing at Carmen with a sly smirk: "I'm always right."

"Actually, I was about to say 'too close', but… Whatever works." Leo smiled weakly, just hoping to be released already.

"Huh?" Roger still grinned, not picking up on what was being asked of him, but once he did, he recoiled almost comically, that exaggerated look of realization on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. We're both terrible, aren't we, Carmen?"

"Speak for yourself," he retorted, smirking as well. " _You_ are. Leo's just too nice to say it."

"Not at all," Leo assured and carefully got up from the couch, trying not to seem too rude by doing so. "But can we not talk about this right now? There was a quarrel, yes. You've both been there, you've both heard it. And no, we haven't talked it out yet, which I know we should, but…," he trailed off, sighing deeply. "But there are other things I need to sort out first. The show… You know, he was right. The show must go on."

Roger and Carmen exchanged glances, as Leo tried to pretend that he couldn't see the worry behind it. "And how can we help you with that right now?" Carmen asked carefully, standing up as well.

"You can't," Leo looked up at him, his smile wavering. "And I don't want you to. I didn't come here to bother you with the production in the middle of the night, don't worry. Can't we just talk, without any deeper meaning? Please?"

In that moment, the tension in the air seemed to ease, and they both smiled warmly at him, their faces softening with relief.

"Of course, Leo," Carmen said, clasping his shoulder gently. "Of course we can."

And so they sat, and talked, and soon enough the entire DeBris house had joined them, chatting loudly and joyfully about events past and present. They had joked, and laughed heartily. It felt like no topic was left undiscussed: everything from Kevin's newest costume projects to Scott's choreography ideas as well as Shirley's potential love interest (which she vigorously denied, of course) found its way into the conversation. But, without ever having agreed on it, no one had mentioned Max or wanted to know anything about their petty fight. Although unsure whether that fact should calm him or unsettle him, Leo was glad they didn't, and just let himself be immersed in their careless joviality. Even if Carmen watched him from the corners of his eyes every now and then, an indefinable expression on his face, he was content. There had been a moment or two in which his heart was all of sudden in his mouth without any apparent reason, and he'd had to stop talking then, reminding himself that they couldn't, and _didn't_ know the true reason he was there. But these incidents passed quickly, and he was able to calm himself and carry on with the pleasant evening without causing any disruption. Later, Shirley had made enough tea for 50, which Leo had accepted gratefully, soaking up its warmth and sweet, herbal scent.

For once, time seemed to flow differently. There was no rush or hassle about what will be; just then and there. It was hard to stay focused in that harmonious atmosphere. So hard that he could have forgotten about the very concept of time altogether, if it hadn't been for Carmen, who, laying on the floor with his feet up on the divan, suddenly propped himself up on his elbows, addressing him.

"Hey, why don't you stay the night?" he offered. The others turned to him as well, nodding in unison. "It's almost eleven, too late to wander the streets alone anyway. We could call Max that you'll be staying, and-"

"No," Leo shot without thinking, aware of how desperate he sounded but unable to contain himself. "I mean, no, that won't be necessary... I won't bother you here for so long, I have to-"

"You're not bothering us," Kevin interrupted and once again, the others agreed eagerly.

"Yes, well, thank you, it was a wonderful evening, but I…" he saw Kevin and Brian exchange long looks, and immediately knew that they suspected something. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to be more convincing. Just this once. "But I have to go home. I promised Max that I'll be back. And I'm sure you can understand that right now I don't want to set him off…"

That seemed to satisfy them, or so he hoped. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he had ruined the atmosphere in the room; stripping it of its warmth and forcing them back into reality. And although the looks on their faces were understanding, he noticed the slight disappointment behind it. What unnerved him more, though, was that Carmen's face _hadn't_ changed. It was almost as if he had expected him to refuse.

"Sure," he heard Carmen pipe up jovially from his spot on the floor. Then, jumping up with the grace of a cat and walking over to him, he took him by the arm. "I'll see you out."

Offering rushed but warm farewells to the rest of the room, Leo let himself be led into the hallway. Once there, he could feel Carmen's eyes on him, observing him closely as he put his coat on, but pretended he didn't notice it. Instead, he busied himself with fastening the coat, button by button, trying to conceal the slight tremor of his fingers. He could tell that the slow, repetitive movement drove Carmen crazy.

He heard him sigh deeply.

"Allow me," he swatted his hands away, buttoning it up the rest of the way quickly, and straightened his collar. Once satisfied, he patted him on the lapels and fixated him with a rather stern look. Leo shrunk back instinctively.

"Leo." Just from the tone of his voice, it was clear that this was going to be a lecture. "If something was going on, be it problems with Max, or the production, or just anything, really… Promise you would tell me."

He looked down at his shoes. "Of course…"

"Leo," Carmen repeated, this time with a warning edge to it. "Promise me."

Forcing himself to look up into his eyes, which suddenly seemed darker than they usually were while they were in casual conversation, he nodded. "I promise."

Carmen held his gaze for a moment longer, as if trying to read his thoughts, searching for any hint of him being dishonest like a hawk. But in the end, it seemed that he'd passed the test; Carmen finally released him, stepping back with a contented smile.

"Okay," he shrugged, suddenly sounding a lot more like himself. Now, that was a relief. "But do me a favour; take a cab and go straight home. No loitering around in the dark, young man. Understood?"

"Understood." Leo couldn't hold back a smirk, doing his best to ignore the pang of guilt making itself known in the pit of his stomach yet again.

"Good. Are you sure you don't want one of us to go with you?"

"I'm sure."

Carmen sighed then, looking a little concerned still, but asked no more.

"Take care, then." He opened the door for him. "See you Monday."

"See you," Leo stepped into the night and gave him a little wave, smiling at his friend's concern.

The door fell closed. And with it, his face fell, too.

Funny. Just yesterday, he'd been asking himself who he was; who he'd always been and who he would be. Now he knew.

A liar. A miserable, colossal liar. That's who.

* * *

The East River glistened, mirroring the thousands of flickering neon lights, and the luminescence from the restaurants and skyscrapers that lined the shore. The faint wind brushed against the water's surface, the ripples ruffling its stillness, and shattered the reflection of the metropolis. In the dead of night even the city lights ebbed to a mere inkling.

Perry stared ahead into the slow-flowing blackness, eyes looking but not really seeing. He twirled the soft material of a hat that wasn't his between his fingers, tracing over its satin brim. What did he have it for?

What had he expected? Why should he come? For a piece of clothing which, judging by his grand producer status, he could easily replace with a fancier, less worn out hat? It had been foolish to think that it would work. Leo had no reason whatsoever to show up, much less help him. Still, he'd seemed righteous, if not a bit naive… So maybe he was still on his way, simply running a bit late. Or that partner of his wouldn't allow him to go. Or, in case he had decided to hail a cab, he was stuck in the traffic. Or in case he hadn't… Was it possible that something had happened? Wandering the Manhattan streets alone at night was, well, just as dangerous as walking across the Brooklyn bridge, probably.

He sighed, his breath a cloud of mist, evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. Then, almost by instinct, his hand traveled down into his pocket. He pulled out a small box, and a silver lighter, which was almost icy to the touch. But a spark ignited a flame, and soon enough the iciness was replaced with subtle warmth. He closed his eyes, savouring the feeling. That's what he needed. The rich cigar smoke eddied coolly down his throat; he puffed it out again in rings which swirled in the air bravely for a moment- blue, circular -then began to wobble into hour-glass shapes and taper away; odd shapes they take, he thought.

"You smoke a lot," a voice appeared out of nowhere; it had been so unexpected that he'd almost choked on his cigarette.

Catching his breath, he dared to turn around.

"Jesus fucking Christ… You're _quiet_."

Leo smiled faintly. "They say so."

He had to smirk back, the uncertainty from minutes ago dropping from his shoulders like a sandbag. On the other hand, it was Leo who looked unsure; shoulders bent slightly forward, both arms hugging his torso. But then, maybe he was simply cold. He beckoned him with his hand. "Come on," he said, heaving himself up on the bridge's parapet and patting the spot beside him, "I knew you're a good one."

Leo's eyes flickered to his shortly, but he stayed where he was, staring at the metal railing fearfully.

"What's the matter?" He extended a hand towards him. "Want me to help you up?"

Leo shook his head, looking down. "I just don't fancy heights..."

"Heights?" Perry raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder; down at the river and roads below. "That's barely, what, 80 metres? High enough to be painless if you fall, no worries."

"Yes, how reassuring," Leo scoffed, but climbed up nonetheless; shakily but carefully.

Despite Leo having refused at first, Perry took his hand anyway, keeping him steady until he was safely settled. For a minute, neither of them spoke; Leo keeping his gaze fixated somewhere in the distance, and Perry staring at him, trying to read his expression. More minutes passed, and eventually he figured that it'll have to be him who breaks the ice.

"Thank you for coming," he began. Leo only nodded. Perry sighed, trying a different approach. "You know… Only when I'm stressed."

That did get Leo's attention. He finally turned to him, eyes questioning. "Excuse me?"

"You said I smoke a lot," he explained, feeling triumphant that his little trick had worked. "Well, I only do when I'm stressed."

"But you smoke all the time…"

Perry winked at him then, giving him a lopsided grin. "Exactly."

For a moment, Leo just stared at him, incomprehensive, but then the corners of his mouth quirked up, growing into a wide smile, before he erupted into laughter. He was holding back though, he could tell; one hand over his mouth to cover his grin and his laughter was subtle, timid in a way. Still, hearing it -and being the source of it- seemed to brighten the night just a little.

"What, does it bother you?" Perry continued and blew out a gust of smoke pointedly, hoping to amuse him further.

"Not at all," Leo still chuckled and crinkled his nose, waving a hand to disperse the cloud. "I guess we all cope somehow."

Perry scoffed. "I guess you're right… How do _you_ cope?"

"Me?" Leo seemed to think for a moment. "With what?"

"With stress."

"Why, do I look stressed?"

"Oh, please..." Perry turned his eyes heavenward. "Forgive me for noticing, but it's hard _not_ to notice."

Leo tried to make what he assumed was supposed to be an offended face, but his smile gave him away. "Now, that's a good question…"

"So?"

Leo shrugged. "I… I'm not sure, to be honest," he said. "I wouldn't say that I cope particularly well with… with just about _anything_ , but well, there's Max. And besides him? There are my friends, of course, there's music, there's the theatre, that accomplished feeling when your production is going so smoothly that for once, you feel at one with something…" he trailed off then, his mind seeming to take flight, that faraway look appearing again. A daydreamer; that's what Perry always thought him to be just from observing him at work every now and then. He felt strangely pleased at having his assumption confirmed.

"And your blanket?" he added nonchalantly, the thought springing into his head out of the blue.

Leo looked rather alarmed by that notion, though, his eyes growing several sizes. "My what?"

"Hm?" Perry glanced at him, oblivious. "Oh, do forgive me if it's… personal or something, but you know, I kind of noticed. Once again, it's hard _not_ to notice. No offense."

"None taken," he assured and cleared his throat, turning his attention to his hands, which rested on his lap and constantly fidgeted with an edge of his coat; maybe to compensate for the lack of that blanket, Perry thought dryly. "Anyway. Could we… Could we get to the point, maybe?"

"Sure," Perry stubbed his cigarette out on the railing and threw it behind him, aiming for the river. He then turned his whole attention to Leo, moving himself into a crossed legged position- a position at which Leo looked quite horrified, his eyes darting from the river deep below them to him. "Ask away."

"Oh, okay, um… What happened at work? I mean, did you do something?"

Perry chuckled; he had expected him to ask exactly that. "I guess that depends on the point of view. But long story short, the guy behind me failed to prepare the tax returns on time."

That information only seemed to confuse Leo further. "I'm sorry, but I don't follow… Are you saying that he fired _you_ for someone else's mistake?"

"Well, not exactly," he said, mouth twisting into a self-satisfied smirk. "He'd been yelling at the poor man for good 10 minutes, so I asked him to keep his voice down, lest he wishes that the rest of us fail _our_ tax returns."

"You did?"

He nodded proudly. "I did. And it felt great, I'll be honest with you. But that was the beginning of the end, naturally. He turned his attention to me then, and saw a half-empty cup of coffee on my table; an unforgivable sin, as you know. So, he asked me to come to his office 'before he pours the fucking coffee over my overly-gelled head'."

Leo visibly tried to hold back a snicker at his impression of Marks, but failed.

"Oh," he was only able to choke out in between repressed giggles.

"Yeah, oh," he gave him a half-hearted nudge in the ribs to stop laughing at his misfortune. "Well, at that point, I already knew that I was fired; I could see it in that self-assured, spiteful face of his. So I gave him the most venomous smile I could accomplish and followed him, taking my coffee with me... I think you can imagine how this ends."

Leo's mouth fell slightly agape, realization dawning on his face. "You didn't… Did you..?"

He simpered at Leo's disbelief, eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Oh, I did… I so very much did…"

"Oh my God," Leo covered his mouth with his hand, equally shocked and amused. "You dumped the…"

"I dumped the coffee on his head," Perry finished for him, grinning widely by then. "So, yes. That may or may not have contributed to my fate, but you know… Maybe I don't have a way to pay off my debts now, but it was more than worth the look on his face. Good deal, don't you think?"

Despite his jesting tone, Leo's face got distorted with sympathy- if not pity- at the mention of his struggles. "Oh, I didn't know… I'm sorry."

Perry shrugged. "Well, I'm not. But enough of this. It is what it is."

And he meant it. Endlessly dwelling over what could and possibly will happen now that he, himself, had sabotaged his career, seemed quite useless. Partly out of pride and his hard-set refusal to even consider that what he had done was immature and petty, if not borderline illegal. But then, which of the things that Marks had done _weren't_ borderline illegal, or, rather, full-on criminal? Maybe it wasn't right, but it was fair. He deserved every last drop of the coffee on that ignorant, obtuse head of his. His only regret was that he hadn't, like Leo had years ago, added some creative insults to it.

"It is. But it didn't _have_ to be," Leo said, almost to himself.

"What do you mean?"

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug so quick that it looked more like a nervous tic. "I'm just thinking that maybe, if I had agreed to help you deal with him when you asked, this wouldn't have happened, that maybe, if I hadn't been so- so selfish, I guess, you would still have your job…"

"Alright, stop right there. That's bullshit and you know it. Want some?" He presented him with a flask of strong gin that he carried around for cases of emergency; this seemed to be one of them. Leo shook his head, though, insisting that he doesn't drink. _Well, only sometimes, occasionally_ , he'd add after a pause. "Are you sure? From my point of view, you look like you're freezing your ass off a little bit. It would warm you up."

At that, Leo did smile slightly, but shook his head nonetheless.

Perry sighed, clueless how to continue the conversation without mentioning anything that might deepen his apparent feelings of guilt, however unfounded they were. That little remark about his debts seemed to have dampened Leo's mood, which hadn't been his intention at all, for he didn't even want to say it. One of his fatal flaws; he talked and talked and talked. And even when there was nothing more to say, and whoever happened to have enough patience to listen to him had long fallen silent, desperate to end the conversation, he would talk some more.

But the silence was getting too uncomfortable to ignore, and he physically _needed_ to say something; to have Leo say something.

"Hey, watch this." An idea popped into his head just when he thought he might start singing _Harbor Lights_ just to break the quiet.

Almost as if possessed by a strange, intense exhilaration, he reached for his flask and poured the gin all over his own hand, ensuring that no part was left uncovered. He only hesitated for a moment before getting his lighter and bringing it close to his flesh.

Shocked beyond words, Leo jumped back as he watched the newborn flames lick the surface of his hand mercilessly, not leaving a single bit untouched. Refusing to be contained, they danced blue and white, weaving and swirling throughout his hand like an unfinished drawing. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, they died out again with only a light movement, a soft breath of air: its life compositing into nothing but deathlike grayness that floated in the smoky air.

Bewilderment grazed Leo's face, eyes wide, as he gasped: "You're insane…"

"Ah, insanity runs in my family," he replied, more delighted than he should be at Leo's reaction. "It practically gallops. But you know, fire is fascinating."

"Is it?"

He had so many answers to that. He could talk about everything from its practical use to its destructive abilities and finally, its unique beauty. Fire was the most beautiful weapon of them all. The warmth along with the welcoming feel it gave but as you slowly approached, it snarled and bit. Everything you loved could be gone in minutes, due to a single nip. The flames flickered with no thought of the oxygen or the fuel they consumed; they had no appreciation of what had been given to them and no concern for what would be left after. But, of course, he couldn't tell him that.

"Undoubtedly," he said instead. "Don't you find it pretty?"

"There are other things I find pretty, to be honest," Leo sneered.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, this," he gestured to the glimmering view before them. "Although, some nights, I wish I lived in the country. Living in the city means more people are out and about at night, cars driving around with their headlights on, businesses lighting their fluorescent signs… And sometimes I just can't take it. I want to see the sky littered with twinkling stars. I want shooting stars to be a normal thing. Here, it's always masked by the artificial lights and airplanes. And I know it sounds foolish, but for just one night, all I wanna see is the moon and a sky full of stars..." Leo spoke with such genuine, sheer desire that even he found himself at a loss for words. And in that split second- in that faint light and that specific angle from which he observed his features that were almost ceaselessly full of childlike wonder- he reminded him so much of… He shook his head, trying to clear the image. It was merely his imagination, the late hour and the gin combined clouding his senses.

"It's absurd, isn't it?" Leo asked timidly when he didn't say anything for longer than was normal for him.

"No…" he finally replied, snapping out of the trance. "Not at all."

And just like that, it suddenly felt so wrong. All of it. Dragging Leo here, in the middle of the night and possibly damaging his work performance, just when he needed to give it the most he could. Forcing him to be a part of his problems when he had his own. He had done enough for him already; Maybe it was about time he let go of his fantasies that had little to no chance of coming true. Wasn't that what being an adult meant? There was a fine line between determinedly following your desires and childishly seeking justice in a world where fairness was more of a social construct used to soothe the public, while equity was truly granted only to those who could pay for it. It was time to grow up.

"Alright, listen... I'm sorry for making you come. You were right, it was too sudden, too far-fetched, anyway. It was good to have seen you after these years, believe me, even better to know that you're faring well, but look…" he sighed, trying to convince himself that this was the right decision. It had to be. "I think you should go home. I'll be fine. Just tell your partner to get me some free tickets to that show someday, will you?"

"Perry…" Leo shook his head as if asking him to stay, but did nothing to stop him when he started to leave either.

"Oh! And since you're too shy to ask for it yourself," he stopped, reaching into his coat, "here's your hat."

He had to smile at the urgency with which Leo took his hat back, as if afraid that he'd take it from him again. That was the moment where he knew that he'd done the right thing. Leo had his own life now; who was he to drag him back into old patterns?

"Well, I'm afraid that's where we part our ways," he pointed to the direction of Brooklyn and gave him a little salute. "So long, Mr. Bloom. If you need me, you know which side of the bridge you can find me on."

He lingered for a moment longer in case Leo wanted to say his goodbyes as well, but he hadn't, not even when he turned, and went, taking to the streets once again. The relentless downpour of the morning had since tapered off into a softly falling mist which managed to paint the area in a strangely fanciful light - the street lamps caught on the tiny droplets of water granting each lantern a delicate golden aura, and for a few moments, the strangeness of the day was far from his mind.

"Wait!" His peace was short-lived, though, when the sound of scurrying footsteps approached from behind. Surprised, he turned, only to find Leo jogging to catch up with him.

"Wait," he repeated, a little out of breath when he stopped beside him. He waited patiently as Leo gathered his thoughts, looking as hesitant as if whatever he was about to say was a matter of life and death. When he finally found the courage to speak, he blurted out the last thing he expected to hear: "You can work for me."

"What?" He asked, dumbly.

"I could - I _will_ \- arrange it somehow. If you want to, of course. It would solve both our problems, wouldn't it?" he implored, sounding unsure of his own words. "I would have more time for the theatre and you, well… You would replace me as our accountant. We'd pay more than Marks; that's a promise." He attempted a laugh, but it sounded rather strained.

He, on the other hand, couldn't bring himself to speak, let alone laugh. "Are you serious?" he croaked out at last. Leo nodded, but this time, it was resolute.

"Seriously, if you're fucking with me-"

"I'm not! I'm not... Look," he said, digging through his breast pocket for a pen. "I'll give you the number to our office; if it's Max who picks up, say it's a mistake. I just- I don't want him to know that we know each other, alright?"

"Alright..." he replied with barely any voice.

"Good." Leo gave him a faint smile. "Do you mind if I write the number on your hand? I thought I had the piece of paper you gave me yesterday, but I must have lost it…"

Of course, he complied, staring in silence as Leo carefully scribbled the numbers on the back of his hand.

"Done," Leo said triumphantly when he finished and stepped back, already starting to walk back towards Manhattan. "Well, think about it... Until then, Mr. Peregrine."

"Thank you," he called after him before he could leave. "I mean it. Thank you, Leo…"

He realized, suddenly, that this was the first time he had called him by his name. Leo halted in his step and looked back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He waited with bated breath. The producer recovered quickly, though, and only tipped his hat to him before continuing on his way. Glued to the spot, he watched his figure receding into the darkness. What had just happened? He couldn't mean it. And yet… Taking several moments to gather his wits, he allowed himself to laugh out loud- out of joy, out of the absurdity of it all- and headed back into his apartment, too.

He was almost halfway over the bridge when a tall, slender man clad all in black came into his pathway. He staggered back a few steps, startled at first, but giggled it off, too happy to care. He made a move to the side to let the other man pass, but much to his shock, the stranger grabbed him by the lapels, roughly pushing him against the bridge's steel railing.

"Woah!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up. "What's your problem, dude? I didn't see you!"

"Quiet," the figure hissed, their face shrouded by a hooded sweatshirt. Cold fear spread up his body then, but he tried not to let it show.

"Look, buddy, if you're looking for money, I just lost my job, so I may not be the best-"

"Who are you?" the man demanded, ignoring his excuses.

"Pardon me?"

"Who are you," they repeated, voice hard and unwavering, "and what do you want from Leo?"

* * *

_**A/N:** _ _Lots of foreshadowing in this one, huh? Now things can get moving! Until next time x_


	6. Conversations

_**A/N:** _ _I wanted to post this before Christmas, so that I might have some time for a holiday oneshot. We'll see!_ _Needless to say, this is not what I had planned for this chapter and I kept changing it, but sometimes ideas come spontaneously, and sometimes, it's for the better :) But that's for you to decide; happy reading! x_

* * *

It had been barely two days after their first fight when the second, the worse one, had happened.

It had been a Monday; the day for which the premiere of their production, _Double Cross,_ had been originally scheduled. That show - the main source of their problems for the several last months. Agreeing to produce it was one of the hardest decisions he's yet had to make in all 30 years of his career, because unlike all the other musicals he had ever worked on, with or without Leo, it wasn't satire - it wasn't even a comedy.

The story was set in New York during the Great Depression, so naturally, the plot was bound to be of the pessimistic kind, too. _It's too depressing,_ Roger had said to him when he had first presented him with the concept, as he always had when the script didn't exactly correspond with his extravagant idea of what a Broadway show should be. Only this time, he hated to admit, he had to agree with him.

On another occasion, he'd overheard Brian mumble, "This show's more cursed than Macbeth," when a set piece came undone out of nowhere, nearly - thank God just nearly - swiping their lead actor into the orchestra pit. And, indeed as if by some curse, that comment had stuck with him since then.

Cursed.

He had never been superstitious; but maybe it was.

The storyline followed the fate of a wife and her husband, a struggling but ambitious press agent who will stop at nothing to get to the top; he lies, he cheats, he betrays his partners and friends. And despite his loving wife's efforts to lead him into the right direction, he never listens. That was the part that Max _did_ find interesting, for it was realistic, even if more relatable than he'd like it to be. Then there was the predictable, overly optimistic part: The man succeeds despite his crooked methodes, getting columns in the best newspapers and the money and the clients and the fame. But as those tales always ended, his success is short lived and he, the morally compromised hero, goes not only bankrupt, but also gets beaten to death by his own wife.

Roger had been right; it _was_ too depressing.

Ironically, the entire thing had been Leo's idea, a fact by which he had been equally shocked and impressed. The topic was controversial, and risky, but not in the sense that most of their past musicals had been. The audience always expected the same pattern from them; an outrageous, knee-slapping satire that should make them ashamed for even finding it funny, but each night, hundreds of people left their performances in a drunk-like intoxication from the travesty they had just witnessed, and the critics loved it. They all did.

So when Leo had brought up changing their style altogether - as a kind of an experiment, he had later said - he did have his doubts. Serious doubts, if he was being honest, but Leo had been insistent. That newfound confidence and determination was something he wasn't used to seeing in him, but it was strangely charming; a glint of a person he knew that Leo could be. _There's so much more to you,_ he'd always say to him in moments where Leo would doubt himself, apologizing for behaving one way or another. And Leo would always ask: _Like what?_ That was usually the moment where he found himself unable to give a clear answer. _There just is, alright?_ he'd reply, and that would be the end of their conversation.

There always had been something thrilling about him that he couldn't quite decipher or put into words, but now he had an idea of what he meant all along. It was those moments in which Leo would show what he was truly capable of that made him so proud and humble to be his partner, because he himself wouldn't have the courage to go through with such a risk.

But finally, after weeks of bickering and listing the advantages and disadvantages of putting on a show as treacherous as that, he had agreed. Leo had given him a smile so big and bright then, that he couldn't help but give in without further protestations. And Roger, hearing that it had been Leo who came up with it, became an instant fan of the idea as well.

So it had been settled. The actors had been cast, the costumes fitted, and the rehearsals began.

From the beginning, something about it was off. He could tell that everyone felt the same way, but they had never brought it up, never acknowledged what was so obvious. Even though it wasn't, not really. The music, for one, was spectacular; the kind that flows through your veins and swirls in your head weeks after you had first heard it. That was the reason why Leo had fallen in love with the show in the first place, he supposed, and he couldn't blame him. Leo had always seemed to care for music more than he did, but in this case, even he could recognize its potential. Still, there was _something_ not quite right in the way the actors delivered their lines, there was _something_ missing in the script. But every time he'd try to define what the problem was, he found nothing. No one did.

Eventually, they all seemed to surrender to the fact that it'll never be ideal; that there will always be that one missing piece to complete the puzzle. That was, everyone except for Leo who, while painfully aware of his error, was also incredibly stubborn. He'd keep working long after the rehearsals were through, wrecking his brain, longing to make it right; refusing to accept anything less than perfection. He still hadn't.

So they had let him - if only to feel less responsible - but not much had changed. Sometimes, you can do everything right and things will still go wrong; the key was to never stop doing right. Not that he was the one to talk.

But, in spite of everything, the actors acted, the conductors conducted and the directors directed. Everything had run as smoothly as it could have. That was, until summer changed to autumn and took half the cast with it. It had gone only downhill since then; having to drop out himself was merely the last straw. As their production descended deeper and deeper into that hole they couldn't seem to find an escape from, the reason for their dispute had been obvious; Leo had, in the end, decided to postpone the show by a week. He didn't _want_ to do it, Max was certain about that. He did it because others told him to; because he wanted to prove that he had just as much say in what happens to the show as Max did. Quite simply, he did it out of wounded pride. And somehow, that had angered him more than he thought it would.

The breaking point, he supposed, had been when Leo came home that day, well past midnight, looking as careless as if the past months' events never happened - as if with every minute he spent dawdling around the Upper East Side instead of working, their careers weren't sinking a little lower and lower, until they would be nothing but a memory of good luck they once had.

It worried him. For the first time in years, he could say that he was genuinely worried; about Leo's baffling calmness at that moment, about their careers, about their money and their reputation. He worried about the added workload - changing advertising, extending contracts - that Leo had brought upon himself. About the theatre and their actors.

About Leo.

No matter how hard he would try to deny it, it always came down to one concern only; Leo. When exactly had he discovered that pattern, he couldn't recall. Of course, a certain sense of responsibility towards him had been there since the beginning, but something had changed. It wasn't a change for worse, he knew that, and yet, it sometimes felt like it. Because with responsibility came great care, and with great care even greater affection.

At times he liked to, secretly, think of their relationship as a contract; that way it felt like something secure and less abstract, something permanent. But breaking a contract never hurt. Breaking a person did, and that scared him.

"They should have kept you," was the first thing he had grumbled when Leo waltzed through the door that night, smelling of perfume he knew only Roger would wear. He'd been joking then, but it turned out, unexpectedly, that Leo wasn't as relaxed as he appeared to be.

"Maybe they should have," he snapped back and slammed the door.

He couldn't explain what had come over him that moment. Maybe it was the stress; the worry for their show. Maybe it was the worry for Leo. Maybe it was just worry and frustration in general, overflowing the moment the door fell shut. Or maybe - just maybe - it was the worry for his own, selfish being.

Whatever it was that had made him act the way he did, he couldn't explain it - but he remembered what he had said all too well.

_You're going to damage everything we've worked for._

_God, you're such a puppet; so gullible._

_Anyone could play you like a fiddle._

_It's your fault._

_Incompetent._

_Spineless._

_A coward._

It was only when Leo had started crying, that he snapped back into reality. It all came crashing down on him then.

And for the first time, after all was said and done, he was certain that the decision he had made those months ago was a wrong one.

He hated that show. He hadn't realized it before, but he did. He hated it for what it was; a reflection of his own past, all his mistakes and faults crammed into one bitter, broken-down character. He hated it for the emotions it awoke in him; for the things it made him say. He hated it for what it was doing to Leo.

He hated it for making him cry.

It really was cursed. It had poisoned their idyllic streak of happy years, when they had nothing to worry about but the way they're going to spend their money. And he had let it.

Neither said anything for a long time, but there wasn't silence. From the other side of the room soft whimpers kept coming, like a small child who's lost his parents. But there was no small child in the room.

Only Leo.

And as much as he had craved to do something that moment, there seemed to be nothing he could say, nothing he could do, the damage had been done. He hadn't even looked at him; he couldn't bring himself to.

"You know, Leo," he began, weary, once Leo's sobs were reduced to heavy breathing, "there's something that Boris would always say to me in times like these."

He finally closed the distance between them and brushed a stray strand of hair out of Leo's eyes, giving him a sad half-smile.

"Opening night and death wait for no one. You're either ready or you're not."

* * *

He didn't understand it.

The pillows were fluffed, the temperature in the room was perfect, and Roger was fast asleep next to him, looking peaceful. A lingering haze of sleep sat somewhere at the back of his mind but was too far away to reach. He tried to lay on his right side. He tried the left. But no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up laying flat on his back, eyes wide open as he stared a hole in the ceiling. Because every time he'd close them, a pair of icy eyes and a snide smirk would flash through his head. That man. He looked almost amused when he had pushed him against that bridge, demanding answers.

 _I'm just a friend,_ he had said, and when he didn't respond: _Why, is it so hard to believe that Leo has other friends?_

Maybe it was. Not because he wasn't the sweetest man on Earth or, God forbid, didn't deserve them, but he found it hard to imagine Leo going out with 'just a friend' in the middle of the night at the height of their production; especially with one he had never seen or heard of. So he had asked him exactly that.

How come he'd never heard of him?

The answer both shocked him and not: Because Leo doesn't want Max to know.

He didn't like that notion. Not at all.

So Leo had a friend; alright. That friend knew something about Max; expected, everyone who knew Leo was bound to somehow be aware of Max, too. But he was also someone that Leo wanted no one else to know about and only met with at night? If he hadn't known better - if it had been anyone else than Leo - such secrecy could only mean one thing.

Then he had demanded his name.

He had given it without hesitation: Oliver.

Oliver. So Leo's secret - not to mention good-looking and young - friend was Oliver. He had made sure to remember that. Still, he hadn't been convinced, so he asked further. What was his profession? Where did they meet? Why were they on the bridge, of all places? Why so late? Why didn't he want Max to know?

To his surprise, he had told him everything he wanted to know without the slightest uncertainty: He was an accountant. They met at work. Leo didn't like crowds. Again, Leo preferred that they are alone. The only question he took a while to reply to had been the last one, but he had answered even that: _I don't know._

How could he not know? What did it mean? Did he genuinely not know or didn't he want to tell him? All those questions buzzed through his mind for the past several hours, refusing to grant him the luxury of sleep. And not only that. What if he wasn't who he said he was? What if he wasn't Leo's friend at all, but someone who threatened him, or blackmailed him, or planned to hurt him in any way?

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know, but he was also aware that now that he had started it - now that he did invade Leo's privacy - he had to find out. But how? He couldn't just walk up to him and start asking about this Oliver. It'd have given everything away. Although, chances were that Leo will already know about their little confrontation before he'll even have the chance to explain himself.

That worried him, too.

He had tried to stay anonymous, yes; the hood was over his eyes and he didn't tell him anything about himself. But Leo wasn't stupid. Quite the contrary; he was very, very smart. Smart enough to figure out who Oliver's mysterious attacker had been, if given the smallest indication.

What was he thinking?

He sighed, rolling over onto his left side for the hundredth time that evening, and for the next fifteen minutes or so, he watched Roger's back; the way his shoulders rose and fell with every deep breath.

"Roger?" It was no more than a whisper; impossible to rouse him.

"Roger."

No response.

" _Roger."_

At last, a grunt.

"Rog," he repeated, nudging his shoulder lightly, "could we talk?"

Roger groaned again, pulling the blanket closer up to his chin and curling into himself as if that way, Carmen couldn't see him.

"Come on," he pressed, although fighting a smile, "it's important."

He heard him sigh and shrug the blanket a little lower, but didn't open his eyes. "Talk, then."

Knowing that this was the best he could get from him at the moment, Carmen sat up, propping himself with several satin pillows.

"Aren't you gonna fall asleep while I talk to you?" he asked, half joking, half not.

"No."

He smiled. "Alright… Well, I'm not sure what it is, but… Don't you think that Leo's been acting strange lately?"

"No."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you even awake?"

"No."

"Roger!"

"What?" he moaned, at last rolling over onto his back and making it seem like opening his eyes was the greatest strain he could ever want from him. Finally he was awake and alert, though; he could tell from the little frown on his face and his eyes weren't glazed over anymore, but glaring at him.

"Good morning," Carmen said dryly, used to his partner's melodramatics. "I repeat: Don't you think he's acting strange?"

"Who?" Roger asked with a whine, still annoyed at the disturbance.

"Leo!"

That made him perk up, and he leaned against the bed frame, searching Carmen's face as if he had the explanation plastered right on his forehead. "What with him?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!"

Still, Roger looked clueless.

"Jesus," Carmen passed a hand across his face and took Roger by the elbow, dragging him off the bed in one swift motion. "Come with me."

"What are you- Where are we going?" He stumbled after him, still groggy, but followed nonetheless.

He let himself be led into the kitchen, where Carmen sat him down at the table. Walking to the counter, he heated a cup of milk and added a pinch of cinnamon to it; a gesture Roger would have otherwise taken as a display of affection, but the way he slammed it down in front of him told him otherwise. But he didn't look angry, no. His eyes were troubled but more than anything, he was frustrated. So Roger leaned his elbows on the table, granting him his full attention now.

"Don't tell me you've noticed nothing, well, nothing strange, really…" he began, brushing through his hair that was already disheveled from bed. "Not just when he was here, before you say anything. I mean, what about all those little outbursts at the rehearsals? I know that he's stressed - I'd be more concerned if he wasn't - but he's not snappy, and he's certainly not the type for nightly visits. It's just strange; I don't know how else to say it."

"Well, darling," Roger said, his tone as light as if they were discussing the morning paper, "in the best sense possible, Leo _is_ a little strange."

Something about that had irritated him - maybe it was the tone in which he said it, or the way he swirled the creamy, frothy liquid around his cup carelessly - or maybe the fact that it was true.

"That's not the kind of strange I mean and you know it," he huffed. "And besides, don't talk about him like that."

"Like what? You know I love him, but it's true. Look," he set the cup down, getting a little more serious, "if you're worried, why don't you talk to him? Leo isn't secretive, either."

"There's that." He sat up straight, pointing a finger at Roger. "He is. I didn't think he was either, but he is. He wouldn't tell me anything…"

"Maybe that's because there isn't anything to be told." He entwined his fingers, somewhat pleased that his theory could be true. "Quite frankly, Leo doesn't respond well to stressors. He never did for as long as we'd known him. So what I don't get is your sudden concern with behaviour that's normal for him, even more so now when the situation in the theatre is the way it is. Believe me, even Max is losing his mind right now…"

"That doesn't explain anything," he said, even though really, it did. He had considered all that, of course. Not only considered; he had analyzed and reanalyzed it over and over, always coming to the same conclusion. That something didn't add up.

And now, all his doubts and speculations were nearly confirmed by the encounter.

"No, I think it explains everything," Roger insisted. "You may know Leo, but I know Max. And when he gets angry, it's better to leave him alone until he cools; mark my words, I've been around him long enough. Leo said so himself. He just needed to escape for a while."

He couldn't help but scoff at that. "I'm sure he did."

Roger frowned, seeming to pick up on a hint for the first time that night. "I might be wrong, but I can't shake the feeling that you know something I don't."

Although glad that they were finally getting somewhere, he also dreaded having to explain himself. Despite his intentions, it felt like betraying Leo, like ridding him of his right to do as he pleased. Nonetheless, he was faced with two options; leave him be but risk him getting hurt, or interfere but keep him safe.

He chose the latter.

"Alright, you're gonna think I'm delusional, but try to see the connections." He stopped, choosing his next words carefully. "Remember the last thing Max said after they've fought?"

Roger winced. "That Leo doesn't deserve the lost hat?"

He nodded. "Right. Now, where did he lose it? When?"

Roger only shrugged, while Carmen nodded again. "Keep that in mind for later."

So he talked, and Roger listened, only making small sounds of acknowledgement or scoffs of disbelief every now and then. He told him about the way Leo had looked to the ground when he had tried to talk to him. He described the prominent smell of smoke in Leo's hair when he had hugged him - not the usual New York smog; cigarette smoke. He reminded him of his strange, unexpected visit, and the way he kept zoning out every few minutes. But what had stood out to him the most - the thing that Roger kept negotiating - was the way he had avoided a conversation about Max at all costs and how he had claimed that the only reason he had come alone was because of Max's reluctance to come along.

Now, that didn't add up. Had Leo really wanted Max to accompany him - and he always had - in the end, he would do as he wished. The producer had always tried to present himself as unyielding and resolute, but when it came down to it, there were very few things he'd deny his partner.

Because as innocent as Leo seemed, he'd always had his ways to get around people, although he wasn't sure whether he was even aware of it. Over the years, he had gotten them sponsors and signed contracts just using his natural charm and harmless appearance. People trusted him, so if he only tried, he could get them to agree to near everything. More often than not, though, he didn't want to do it, bribing people; but he could.

But, it seemed to Carmen, he hadn't tried that much this time.

Still, after all his observations - all the subtle and not-so-subtle hints - Roger kept staring at him, a permanent little frown upon his brow but not making any connections. Whether he simply chose not to understand or was genuinely clueless, Carmen couldn't tell.

"What are you implying?"

"So you're gonna make me say it? Alright…" He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I think he's seeing someone."

At first, there was no reaction. Then a smirk, tugging at his lips. But the smirk grew into a scoff, before Roger dissolved into laughter so unrestrained and genuine, that he almost joined him. Almost.

"Will you stop that?" he said, but the smile broke through. "I'm serious."

"Oh, of course you are…" He barely managed to choke out in his gleeful hysterics, wiping tears from his eyes as he went. But the more he laughed, the less amused Carmen was becoming. Roger seemed to sense this, though, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

He managed to keep a straight face for approximately 2 seconds before breaking into chuckles anew.

Carmen glared.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry…" He held a hand up, covering one more giggle with a cough. "So, you're telling me… You're telling me that Leo - the same Leo that cried when Max had to leave for a _week_ \- is out there, having some nightly fun with someone we've never seen? While Max sits at home with the flu, unassuming of Leo's secret rendez-vous? Oh, Darling… If I didn't know better, I'd say you are sleepwalking right now…"

"Well, how else will you explain this? He had left his hat somewhere and didn't immediately rush to retrieve it. And not just any hat - the one that _Max_ gave him. He smells of cigarettes when no one in his close circle is a smoker. He sneaks out and he apparently lies. Doesn't all this seem a little out of place for him?" He was agitated now. Did he really sound that ridiculous? "And besides, I'm not saying that Leo's screwing around with some accountants, or whatever it is that you're thinking about. I'm merely suggesting that he, well… That he needed someone, so he found them. Why he doesn't want anyone to know, I'm not sure… I suppose that he worries that Max would be jealous, which, knowing him, he probably would. But why not me? Or you? I thought he trusted us at this point..."

"With some accountants?" Roger jeered. "Now, where did _accountants_ come from? Even though, I have to admit, if I had only Max to look at all day... I'm sorry, but I'd find someone too."

"Take this seriously!"

"Alright! Alright, just…" Roger shook his head, reaching over the table to lay a hand atop his. "You have to understand, this sounds a bit crazy to me. Leo would never… I mean, I don't think he would."

"I know. But I think he already did."

"Why?" he asked, getting a little frustrated himself. "What makes you think that?"

So it had come to this. If he wanted Roger to believe him, he had to.

He reached into his pocket.

"Well, first of all..." He unfolded a little piece of paper, slamming it down on the table in front of Roger with more force than he had intended. "This."

Confused, Roger leaned over the scrap, inspecting it with furrowed brow, and read aloud:

" _Tillary Street & Adams Street, Brooklyn, 11201."_

* * *

"Leo?" The first inquiry was soft, almost hesitant.

"Leo." The second was more of a statement, clear and impatient.

" _Leo."_ When he repeated it for the third time, it was almost a threat; an edge in his voice that he would otherwise try to keep gentle, at least when speaking to him.

Making it blatant that he was still annoyed with him, Leo raised his head very, very slowly, fixating him with a glare that almost made him uneasy. Max didn't budge, though, holding his gaze, eyebrows raised in expectation of some snappy remark. The direct eye contact must have intimidated Leo, though, for he looked down after just several seconds, fidgeting with his pencil as he sat crouched behind the desk.

Max didn't even try to resist rolling his eyes.

He was aware that he had hurt him, yes; but it wasn't as if Leo had left him spotless. Quite the opposite. Still, the little selfless voice in his head kept nagging him, reminding him that he had started it, that he was the first one to say those things, and that Leo had merely defended himself. That voice was right, he supposed. He should just apologize, he supposed; but somehow, his cynicism and pride prevailed.

"How long do you plan on being offended?" he asked, and Leo looked up again, not any less agitated. "I mean, I don't wanna obtrude, but we kind of have a show to produce, so communication-."

"We?" Leo cut him off and despite his somewhat frigid voice, he was relieved.

Ever since their little war of words, Leo hasn't so much as looked at him, let alone addressed him. Max wasn't the type to deal with arguments by this silent treatment nonsense, but he wasn't too willing to be the first one to break it either. So, they had carried on with this battle of wills for a while, but it was so unnatural - so wrong for them, who hardly ever let anything mess with their contentment - that even he swallowed his pride in the end.

It surprised him that Leo was more reluctant to do so.

"Yes, we. Or would you prefer to deal with it all alone?"

"No," Leo mused, turning back to his books, where started scribbling something again, "but I thought that's what _you_ wanted."

He gave a deep sigh, walking over to sit on the edge of Leo's desk. Those who didn't know Leo the way he did would probably disagree; but he was excellent at making one feel guilty when he was in the mood.

"Come on," he nudged his shoulder, "you know me. I say things all the time, but how many of them do I actually mean?"

"I hope that applies uniquely to the bad ones," Leo grumbled and gave him a rather speculative look, before finally breaking into a guarded smirk.

"God, you're impossible…" He had to shake his head. "And I mean that!"

Leo clicked his tongue at him and ducked his head down, pretending to continue reading through the papers; a vain effort to hide his smile. Although his hard-set wish to stay angry with him was quite adorable, Max knew - hoped - that he won't last long.

"What do you want?" Leo asked instead, never breaking eye contact with the work before him.

"Make you talk."

"Why? You know I'm busy."

"Because," Max said, tilting Leo's chin up to meet his gaze, "it's getting late, and you look to be approximately 2 hours from being pronounced dead."

"Thanks," Leo said dryly, twisting his head away. But even in that split moment, his eyes were evidence enough that he was no longer in the mood for bickering, as was his voice when he muttered a quiet "I'm tired."

"Maybe you wouldn't be if you didn't spend nights on end with Carmen and the co," he offered, meaning to lighten his mood.

"I'm not _sleepy_ -" Leo shot him a glare again- "I'm tired. As in drained."

"I know you are." Max allowed himself to stroke over his hair once, and to his relief, there was no protestation from Leo. "But what do you suggest? There's no way around those contracts…"

"I'm aware, but we could make it easier. I thought..." He spoke almost too softly to be understandable, but Max had learned not to tell him to speak up; more often than not, it had exactly the opposite effect. So he didn't, and Leo at last continued. "I thought that maybe we should hire someone."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Like who?"

"An accountant, perhaps."

Stunned, Max stayed silent, expecting him to elaborate, but instead, Leo just stared up at him with his big, imploring eyes, waiting for him to say something.

"Leo-" he tried not to scoff, momentarily worried that maybe Leo was _too_ tired- " _you_ are the accountant."

The accountant in question rolled his eyes - a gesture increasingly less rare for him - and sat up in his chair, as if gathering up some confidence for whatever he was about to say.

"Yes, but that's the point. Maybe I should finally start being a producer instead. Enough of these double shifts, don't you think? You just said it yourself; I look terrible."

He laughed out loud this time, although he didn't find it at all amusing. It was absurd; Leo had always been his accountant, and a good one at that. He seemed to enjoy being consumed by numbers, so deep in thought that he couldn't hear whenever Max would chuckle at his unceasing muttering of figures and fractions and assets and debits; and Max enjoyed watching him, too. But if he hated it that much, why wouldn't he say anything sooner? Why now, when having their finances intact was more important than ever?

He felt himself getting defensive once more.

"What, wanna work with me as little as possible?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Leo said in a low voice, searching his face, "we live together…"

"Much to your dismay, huh?" he barked at him, but the wounded look Leo gave him grounded him somehow, and he took a breath. "No, Leo. Not now, anyway."

"Why not?" A hint of desperation crept into Leo's voice.

"Because it's your job, and it's important."

"And I'm not?"

That made him stop. He didn't speak, what was there to say? Of course he was. If anything in that room was of any value to him, it was Leo.

Still, he stayed silent; out of bafflement, out of dignity that he clung to even now.

"Please, trust me on this..." For once, Leo was the bolder one and spoke first, laying a hesitant hand atop Max's own. "There's someone… Someone who would take the job. We will wait til the premiere is through, of course. But please; let us try this."

Looking from Leo's hand to his hopeful face, he sighed. "Do you know them?"

"No," Leo answered a little too quickly, as Max watched him scramble to change his reply, "I mean, I know _about_ him, but we aren't close, no."

"I didn't think you were; I would know, I hope." He gave him a slightly sardonic smile. "How do you know _about_ him, then?"

"From work," he said, his voice wavering, but the smile he returned was fixed.

"What, is there an infinite stock of miserable accountants at Whitehall and Marks? They give them away for free, don't they?"

"Not really, I'm afraid..." The tension in Leo's shoulders seemed to ease at his jesting comment. "He's gonna want money too."

"Good point here." The mention of money made him sit up, as Leo shot him a look that he knew only meant one thing; _don't say it_. But "why pay another accountant, when we have you?" he said, and Leo reacted exactly the way he thought he would; slamming his book closed and standing, throwing his hands up in such a comically inordinate fashion that he could only associate with him.

"How could I ever expect otherwise?" he asked; a question more directed towards the heavens than him. "It's always the same story when money is concerned."

"You know that's not true, Leo."

"Isn't it?" He stopped pacing and crossed his arms in a challenge. "Then prove it."

Oh, to hell with it. If there was someone who had already thought of every possible outcome - every thinkable and unthinkable scenario that he somehow managed to consider long before anyone else - it was Leo. And if Leo believed that it was for the best, then he had to believe him, too.

So Leo stared at him in anticipation and he stared at Leo in exasperation when finally, without further consideration nor protestation, he gave in.

"Fine, you manipulator. But don't you think you're gonna see any less of me because of it. On the contrary; the less accounting you have to do, the more time you'll spend at the theatre. Got it?"

"My intention exactly." Leo smiled at him once more, only this time, it wasn't forced, or polite, or whatever other meek expression Leo was able to make. This time, there was a smugness to it that Max wasn't used to, but grew to cherish it more every time it would show itself.

He was about to reach for him but didn't have to, for Leo walked to the desk himself and sat on the edge of it - close to him though there was enough space to sit further - and he was relieved. Whenever a situation like that would come up - whenever he was convinced that this was the time their fortune would end - he was reminded, over and over, of what he had in Leo, and over and over, he would be wonderstruck.

It would seem to others, and sometimes to him, too, that he was always the one reassuring Leo; the ever-confident protector, the only thing standing between him and the rest of the world. But now, increasingly more often than before, he would see how wrong and one-sided his assumption had been. Leo was always there; Leo always stayed.

"I'm sorry," Max said after a silence, and the sincerity in his own voice surprised him. He felt Leo look up, but Max didn't meet his eyes. "What I said; I know it's not your fault." Leo nodded his thanks, but stayed quiet. He could have added, "Well - not entirely," but he knew that would be just another way to hurt him. So he hadn't.

"We're going to the premiere together, right?" Leo asked then, softly, speaking to the ground. "I know I said I don't want to. I was angry, too. But you know me; I won't go unless you do."

That made him laugh for some reason, his frustration subsiding by the minute. "Of course we will, Leo..." He gave him a look. "Quite frankly, I didn't take you seriously even as you said that."

"Hey, don't try me," Leo said, giving him a nudge, and for the first time in weeks, he was truly grateful for the sense of normalcy between them.

Moments passed with neither of them speaking, when he felt Leo moving to get up. Instinctively, he grabbed his arm again, keeping him in place. But when Leo turned to look at him, surprised, he forgot everything he had wanted to say. He improvised. "So, a new accountant, huh? Tell me about him; tell me why we should trust him."

Leo looked startled at the change of topic, but answered immediately. "You don't have to trust him - trust _me_. I assure you, he's-"

The buzzer of the extension telephone went off like an annoyed rattlesnake. He extended a hand to pick it up, but Leo was faster, jumping for the handset almost frantically. Scooping it up with unsteady fingers, Leo spoke into it, listened for a moment, and just as quick as he was to answer, he didn't hesitate with dismissing whoever was on the other side either. "Later," he said, voice terse, and without another word, hung up.

"The hell was that?"

"The box office." Leo waved a hand. "Because of the refunds. Let's not let that ruin the moment of calm, shall we? I'll deal with it tomorrow; I've got all week."

He nodded, more out of habit than conviction, when he realized, slowly, that Leo was lying to him. There was no way it could have been the box office; It was nearing nighttime, well past their office hours anyway. Leo seemed oblivious to his error, though, as he put the phone back in its place, regaining his seat at the table and sat even closer to him than the first time. He heard him sigh deeply, before he felt the weight of his head, warm on his shoulder.

He turned in his direction then, meaning to say something, but all words had left him. Leo's eyes were already closed; but his face looked troubled. His body was relaxed; but his hands were curled into fists, one of them clutching at the untucked tip of his shirt.

He let out a sigh, too - one of exasperation, of frustration at the unknown - but finally, he gave in to the urge to let things go.

"Yes," he mumbled, feeling his eyes getting heavy as well, "let's not ruin this."

* * *

_**A/N:** Next one will finally be the big day; the premiere ;) Hope you stick around until then and stay safe x_


	7. Something About This Night

_**A/N:** _ _So, here it is - the long awaited opening night. A longer chapter this time; hopefully none of you mind :)) Sit comfortably and enjoy! x_

* * *

Perfect lines of hundreds of people kept forming at the doors of the Shubert theatre, excited chatter sounding through all of Shubert Alley. In the swarm of bodies, beautiful ladies clung onto the arms of their charming gentlemen, each of them dressed up to the nines. Some of them already sipped on champagne, while the men stood more to the side, smoking cigarettes, almost blocking the stage door as the last latecomer actors desperately tried to push through them. That was no different from any other performance night - the people, the exciting chaos - but tonight was no ordinary occasion. Tonight was the only chance they had to impress the audience's expectations, however unreasonable or ambitious they might be.

Anticipation hung in the air, its electrifying intensity making it harder to breathe, harder to concentrate on anything but the beating of his own heart. It was near impossible to tell excitement apart from nervousness; both were omnipresent, taking hold in varying situations and at varying degrees.

For example, it had been sheer nervousness when Max pulled him through the crowd and into the lobby, nodding politely at everyone they passed. Being courteous with everyone was important, for you could never be sure which of them were critics and which were ordinary theatregoers, though some of them made it rather blatant, whispering among themselves so loudly that they were hardly whispers anymore. Sometimes their gazes would wander over to him and Max, pointing at them rather shamelessly, and he would try giving them an acknowledging smile, but what he would always get in return were dirty looks. The real nervousness, though, came only when two of those men walked right past them, timing their comment just right so that it would reach them all the while pretending to address the other.

"What do you think, Howie, another hit or failure of the year?"

The man in question - who he would later recognize to be one of the most influential critics of the _New York Times,_ Howard Taubman - only scoffed.

"Failure," he replied definitely.

It was in that moment that he felt the floor sway under his feet ever-so-slightly.

"Don't mind them, Leo." Max brushed it off with an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "It's a mind game. They love to see you shaking."

"Well, if that's what they are doing, they are succeeding. Look-" he held up his hand to show its tremor- " just like they wanted. Oh, Max, I just don't get it… Can't they show a little respect? We all worked so hard for this - literal sweat and blood and God knows what else went into the show. And besides, they can't judge what they haven't seen yet."

"Respect?" Max barked out a laugh. "My naive friend… Don't you know by now? If you wanted respect, you should have pursued any other career. You're never gonna get it from these animals."

"Maybe you're right." He had to laugh himself, relaxing just a bit at witnessing Max's self-assured demeanor. How did the confidence never leave him? "But, still. Right now, I would rather hide behind the seats and only emerge when all of this is over."

"Now, that's a wish that can be granted. Twenty minutes and you can stop all the worrying. It's the point of no return once the overture starts playing."

He looked down at his watch. Ten minutes past nineteen. In all of twenty minutes - twenty five if he added the customary 5 minutes - and their fate would be sealed. No more wondering about what could have been done differently; what could have been improved. Max's phrasing was accurate; it was the point of no return and there was no escaping it.

Max, seeing his inner struggle, only smirked and offered him his arm.

"Ready to take them by the storm?" he asked.

_No,_ his mind replied, but his mouth said otherwise, and he smiled back at his partner warmly.

"When haven't I ever been ready?"

* * *

It is a different story in the auditorium. With the lights dimmed, the tension in the room increases as the audience begins to quiet down, the silence almost loud in comparison to the noise that buzzed through the theatre just seconds ago.

And yet, it is in that moment that he can feel his body starting to settle as well, nervousness replaced by genuine exhilaration about what they had created. He imagines what must be going on inside all of the actors right now. He can almost see Roger, pacing backstage as he tries so hard to appear calm for the sake of the cast - can almost hear their final proclamations of "break a leg" as they join hands in a silent homage to the show. Nobody knows what to expect; not the audience, not the cast, not himself. But it is better to not expect anything, he had learnt, and instead let oneself be taken in by the matchless atmosphere.

On Broadway, where the theatre is lit up with a thousand brilliant beams, it truly is the broadest way of mankind. Yet the brightest lights of all are inside, awaiting the curtain rise. It is there where people come together in music and dance and show the world that dreaming is something that can happen upon a stage.

Then, in a blink, music fills the air without effort; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter, but it always speaks to them in some manner. A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, whilst a slow one can relax the mood. Before the first notes filled the air every person was filled with prejudice and expectations; with it they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginnings of togetherness feels warm.

"What do you think, Leo," he hears Max speak next to him, and he leans in towards him, "is it too late to change everything yet?"

And then the curtain goes up.

* * *

The feeling came before the performance was even over.

_This could be the one_ , a little hopeful voice kept repeating. _After all this waiting, it could work._

Though he wasn't sure what made him so confident. But when the applause broke through the auditorium - when the house was brought down by a standing ovation - he felt something in him shift from doubt to naive hopefulness akin to what he sometimes experienced in his early years of producing. So could this show really beat their expectations, after all the set-backs and inconveniences? Could he have been wrong, could all of them? He didn't dare to make the bet.

Because even though the audience seemed satisfied, leaving the theatre in lively bunches of chatter, it was impossible to miss the smaller groups, loitering after the crowds. Those were composed of men whose faces he mostly recognized, sparing him not-so-subtle looks of judgement and not even making any effort to hide their little notebooks. He didn't want to imagine what kinds of notes they had in there, but he'd been around long enough to predict its nature. It seemed to him, sometimes, that critics became critics just out of spite towards the theatre. Who, after all, could really want to spend all their life criticising an art they would otherwise love?

But critics risk nothing at all, while simultaneously making _them_ risk everything they've worked for. Himself. Leo. Roger and his team. Their cast and crew. All of these people dedicated months of their life to a single piece of art that they have agreed on to be worth the effort. Had it been really, though? They'd have to see about that still.

And yet, he couldn't help but find satisfaction in the process; in everything that came with it, the good and bad. Putting on a show had never been easy, or as poetic as people imagined it, or as thrilling, or as noble. But it wasn't tedious either - it was what it should be and nothing else. The fights, the disappointments, the pressure; those were all a fundamental part of it. But so was love, so was passion, so was union. And he wasn't going to give that up because of several bitter critics who grew to dislike him over the years for one petty reason or another.

At least they tried. At least they weren't afraid to take their chances and just put all their cards on the table. It had been a depleting journey, especially those last weeks, but in the end, he was proud of the result.

Whether the public would share his views, though, was a question of the near future.

"Can you see them?" Leo hissed into his ear, already looking in dire need of his blanket. "They're about to pounce on us like vultures. Just look at their faces… They'd write the reviews in our blood if they could."

"No doubt of it," he replied, "but when has it ever been different? It's probably an act to keep us on edge til the newspapers come out. It's always the same story - pretend they don't like it and then call me a theatrical genius. Lately, anyway. And if the public likes it; well, that's half the victory."

" _If_ they like it." Leo protested, hugging his torso. "You can hardly judge the show's success based on what an opening night audience thinks. At least a half of them were the cast's family."

"Jesus, Leo." He tried not to sound too exasperated, though he was only half listening at this point. "Have you _ever_ tried considering the positive outcome? Those happen too, you know."

Leo didn't react to this - and if he did, it was probably an eye roll - but Max didn't bother to look. His gaze was already fixated elsewhere.

He watched as crowds of people flooded into all the nearby restaurants and buildings, but one place in particular had the most attention. It had a sign hung above its entrance, which simply read " _Double Cross - Opening Night Party Tonight_ ". It was meant to prevent regular passersby from bothering, but he suspected it had the opposite effect - anyone who saw it attempted to get in, and when they would be denied, they'd peek in through the windows. What were they trying to spot? Him and Leo, probably.

Ideal moment to join the hassle.

"You coming along or not?" He barely spared his partner a look over his shoulder before stepping forward, more than ready to dive into that world of glory again.

Unlike most of the things that had anything to do with putting on a show, this never failed to impress him. The thrill of being the centre of attention; of being honoured and looked up to by people he used to idolize when he was younger. The pleasure of getting to witness Leo in one of his less guarded states, when the reviews would be released and his relief would be so great that he'd clap his hands in uncontained excitement. You couldn't experience those moments sitting at home, contemplating whether to take the risk or not.

He was proved right the moment he stepped in, Leo trailing behind him, and the guests turned in a unison that seemed almost rehearsed. In an instant, they started clapping, some cheering them on, some raising up their glasses to them. Oh, how he missed this.

He turned back to look at Leo who, though smiling shyly, looked as uneasy as before. If not more so. But he had expected this, knowing his patterns by now. That long hour or two before the newspapers arrived, he'd be on edge, laughing along with others only to fit in, but he knew better. Because even though Leo apparently thought he was being subtle by keeping his hands constantly in his pockets - mainly the left one - anyone who knew him even slightly was able to pin it down to more than a simple attempt to seem casual. He had to smirk to himself when he noticed him doing it even now.

But, to his credit, he'd always loosen up once the critics made their verdict and be able to enjoy the night - as long as the floor wasn't too cramped. Which was partly the reason why the celebration took place in one of the Hotel Astor's restaurants tonight, as opposed to the Sardi's like he had been used to most of his career. Firstly, Leo had insisted on it after a little incident a few years ago, when the Sardi's had been a little too small to comfortably fit a little too many people. And secondly, all about the building was much more luxurious, which was enough to convince him to change locations.

And it had been worth it.

The grand spaces of the hotel invited the lungs to expand, to truly absorb the restaurants' aromas and enter the moment. The walls were adorned with gold and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, making little specks of light dance around the room.

"Now, that's better, isn't it, Leo?"

He half expected his question to fall on deaf ears, as on these events it was nearly impossible to keep track of the other at all times. Usually, it took about two minutes before someone would separate them, so he'd been almost startled when he turned and Leo was still right behind him, sticking to him closer than was necessary.

Seeing his surprise, Leo smiled his goofy smile and stepped back, nodding in agreement to his question.

"Remind me of this next time you complain about me being too close," he grumbled but didn't make a move to make more distance between them either.

Instead, he took him by the arm, moving through the crowd at an impossibly slow pace, since someone stopped them every few steps. Most of them had the same thing to say; praises about the show, remarks on the talented actors, offers of future collaboration. But there had also been some less pleasant encounters. One man had somehow managed to be intoxicated already, and felt the need to tell them that the lead actress was, in his words, "too much of a tease." Whatever that meant. One stopped them only to confess that they had fallen asleep during the 2nd act's entr'acte. Another woman thought it a good idea to blatantly flirt with Leo while her husband was right there at her side. Such interactions dragged on through all of the evening, but as the time progressed, they gradually became less irritating and more entertaining.

Two things could have been responsible for this change in spirits: his own beginning intoxication or the first reviews finally coming in. Those were opinions from minor newspapers, ones that no one really cared about, but opinions nonetheless. While unimportant, they were positive, which was the main reason for their heightened hopes. Still, everyone was waiting for the resolve of the two most influential papers, ones that could mean the life or death of their show; _The New York Times_ and _The Wall Street Journal_. Personally, his hopes were on the Journal. He had seen the Times' critic before the show, and although he had told Leo otherwise, he didn't expect anything great from him. The reason for his doubts reached well into his past which, being frank, he would rather leave in the past where it belonged. Taubman had a good reason to not be in his favor, but his relationship with the Journal was still relatively untainted. But of course, it could very well be the other way around. It didn't pay to take guesses in this business.

Roger, however, seemed to be in a much more confident frame of mind. He could hear him before he addressed them; could see him before he danced over to them.

"Look who we have here, the Kings of Broadway themselves!" he greeted them in his sing-song manner, extending both hands towards them.

He rolled his eyes, but more out of habit than spite.

"So it's in plural now?" he scoffed, giving Roger a small hug anyway. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Fallen?" Roger exclaimed. "Max, please. This is as high as you'll ever be."

"Doesn't that flatter me…" he jeered again, though Roger was right, he supposed; he'd never been this lucky in life.

Roger just waved his hand at him, as he often did when he had no more arguments in stock, turning his attention to Leo.

"And besides, who else would be more fit to take over your legacy than young Mr Bloom here?" He gave Leo a suggestive wink, at which he blushed, his smile sheepish.

"Heavens, give me a few more years, will you?" he said but had to smirk at Leo's bashfulness, who was already attempting to subtly move on to the bar. "If I were in your place, I'd worry more about your replacement. I do hope that Carmen picked up enough directing skills over the years; because I might kill you one day."

Roger burst out laughing at that, the tequila in his hand probably contributing to his easily amused mood, but what caught his attention that moment was Carmen's reaction. Or the lack of it, for that matter.

"Oh, don't you worry," he addressed Carmen, realizing that he hadn't heard a word from him all evening. "He'll get a heart attack on one of the rehearsals before I can get my hands on him."

Carmen only shook his head at both of them, though.

"Might if I borrow him for a second?" he finally said and pointed to Leo, who stopped, a hint of alarm creeping into his expression.

"No," he answered, frowning. "For once I've managed to not lose sight of him for longer than five minutes; let us enjoy the occasion." He nodded to Roger. "Stick to your own man."

Carmen raised his eyebrows at that, looking between him and Leo.

Max knew his looks. Normally, they would be meant for him, judgemental and disapproving of practically every move he made. But that was an unspoken game between the two of them, both enjoying the rivalry more than they'd admit. So seeing that same look on his face - the same look he'd given him after learning about his _Springtime_ swindle - being directed at Leo sparked curiosity in him.

He'd have to ask him about that later.

Still, everyone waited for Carmen's response. A snide remark, a protestation - anything that was expected of him when he was denied something. But none came, and instead, he gave them a curt nod, before leaving with Roger without further explanation.

He looked to Leo, confused.

"What's it with him? Have you two fought or what?"

"No." Leo, who blanched visibly, shook his head. "No, we haven't."

He studied him for a moment, searching for clarity; trying to make sense of all of their behaviors these days. But he could find nothing, could remember nothing that he could put his finger on and say: "This. This is what you've been hiding. You can stop now, because I know; I know and I can fix it." Still, he wanted to trust him. Still, he was convinced of Leo not being the one to lie for nothing. He had never done anything to convince him otherwise. He almost let that reassure him, but then he remembered their fight. And the outbursts at the theatre. And the strange late-night visit to the DeBris household. And finally, he remembered the lie; the dismissed phone call that he avoided confronting Leo about up till now.

That was when he knew; he was being left out of something. Out of something that apparently had nothing to do with him, but was starting to disrupt everyone else. But how could he have missed such a thing? How could anything that concerned Leo not concern him? How could it escape his attention in the first place? He didn't know, which bothered him for the simplest reasons; he wasn't used to not knowing. All his life, he could see through people's intentions even before they saw it themselves, could accuse and condemn a person for their actions and never be wrong in his judgement. That was the way it worked in the business; you either noticed an issue before it could become one or fell short.

And Max Bialystock never fell short.

"Leo, listen-" he pulled him towards the wall where less people could hear them- "I don't know if you realize this, but it's getting quite obvious that-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as the door to the restaurant flew open and a man with a stack of newspapers entered. And despite telling himself - as well all the others - that the critics didn't bother him, he felt his stomach drop as others broke out in expectant chatter, reaching for the papers hungrily. Forgetting about his frustration with Leo, he pushed his way through the swarm of bodies, getting his hands on the Journal's review before anyone else could read it.

With one fortifying breath, he made himself look down at the words before him.

" _Living up to its title, Bialystock and Bloom's brand new musical "Double Cross" leaves you feeling, for lack of a better word, double-crossed. The phenomenal score by Frank Loesser and a surprising vocal performance of Alfie Husmann clashes with the bleak plot, creating a massive contrast with this famous duo's previous collaborations. After the success of "High Button Jews", a source of ridiculous slap-happiness for the spectators,_ _this woefully tired story will throw you straight into a middle-age crisis. Combined with its length of more than two and half hours, sitting through it - and leaving unaffected - is a true test of courage._

_We are introduced to a Great Depression stricken New York by a captivating opening number, where we meet the show's protagonist. This struggling press agent is eager to make a big name for himself, drawing us into the plot with a long soliloquy about his hopes. However, this optimism fades as the second lead enters - the agent's wife who's against his crooked methods - and only falls deeper down that hole as the show advances. Both heroes get increasingly more melodramatic, coming to a climax right before the intermission, at which point the wife is swaying on the edge of lunacy. We get a new bout of hope at the beginning of the 2nd act, only to be cheated anew. I think it is no spoiler to say that this story is a tragedy from overture to curtain call._

_Unsurprisingly, the staging is as cold as the rest of the production, with only minimal set design, up to the point that it's almost unbelievable that this performance was staged by the same Brian Collins that worked on the duo's debut mega-hit "Springtime for Hitler". However, the lighting was a pleasant surprise, keeping the flashiness and glamour that we're used to seeing from these well-known producers, with a new, darker twist._

_Although this kind of entertainment might appeal to some, it is extremely off-putting for those who seek a pleasant evening in these gloomy months of autumn. So if a good time in the theatre is what you're after, cross seeing this musical out of your planners; preferably with a double line."_

_Todd Egan, The Wallstreet Journal_

He lowered the newspaper, every part of his body coming to a halt while his thoughts caught up. After a wash of cold he looked up, noticing how hushed everything became for the first time. They haven't stopped talking, no. But they were no longer loud and boisterous in their conversations, choosing to whisper and mutter among themselves instead. He didn't even have to read the Times' review to know its nature.

So, the Journal had failed them. So had the Times, as well as all the people who were starting to leave, wanting nothing to do with a failed show. Even though the majority stayed, he supposed it was more for the alcohol than support.

He realized that Leo was standing next to him only when he heard a sharp exhale, but when he turned to look at him, he was already pushing past people, disappearing from his sight before he could gather himself.

He sighed, suddenly too weary to follow him.

Maybe this was really the end of their lucky streak. Maybe this would really be the one mistake he had to make to be thrown back into old patterns. And if it were to be the truth…

What were they going to do?

* * *

If anyone had the right to be more devastated than the producer of the show, it was the director.

Carmen looked on, dismayed, as his partner raved, reading and rereading what they had written about their performance, pointing out all that was, in his words, "a completely bigoted judgement of a work of art that was apparently too complex for the corrupt half-wits to grasp."

Not that he didn't share his view.

He had been suspicious about the show at first, as they all had been, but had grown to be fond of its depth after just a few rehearsals. But then, that same depth also turned out to be its downfall.

He sighed, swirling the champagne around in the glass without ever really sipping it, his eyes scanning the room. An advantage of the new, larger space was that he had a better outlook on everyone's faces, as the people tended to stand in groups that weren't too crammed together. The disadvantage was that there were twice as many faces to look at.

"Looking for someone?"

He turned to find Scott standing next to him, watching the hundreds of little interactions between the guests with the same solemn expression. Everyone had grown so grim all of sudden, he thought as he observed him. The night's magic spark went out with a flicker.

"Not at all," he answered after a moment of silence, tearing his gaze away, "just thinking."

"Well-" Scott gave him a side eye, pointing somewhere in front of him- "I think that I've found you your target anyway."

He frowned, following his finger. It led him to the centre of the room, where some commotion seemed to be building up. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening, until he was able to pinpoint what it had been that Scott wanted to direct him towards.

A small circle had formed around two men, one of which was tall and well-built, making noisy complaints while rubbing on his shirt furiously. The other was one he recognized immediately, and he made his way towards him as swiftly as he could.

"Excuse me," he called at the duo before he even reached them, making their heads whip around towards him. "Is there a problem?"

Under such close inspection, he could see the source of the conflict; Leo must have been stumbling through the crowd and accidentally made someone spill their wine - red wine, to make it worse - all over their white shirt. He looked to Leo with a raised eyebrow, who gave him a shrug in return, his expression more frightened than apologetic.

As the man raved on about how Leo walked around like a bull in a china shop, not looking where he was going whatsoever, Carmen just stared at him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. When he at last finished, Leo stuttered out an apology, even offering to pay for the cleaning - to which the man only responded with a vague gesture, already turning his back to them.

He saw that as a chance to make their exit.

Taking Leo by the elbow, he led them back to where Roger and the team still lamented the show's failure. Leo said nothing besides a muttered "thank you", and he had to smirk. It wasn't the first time he's had to save him from a social interaction gone wrong on one of those events, and he knew that Leo was aware of and embarrassed by it. But he never had minded, taking pleasure in the fact that some things never changed.

"You've read it, haven't you?" He heard Leo speak next to him at last, but didn't turn to face him.

"Yes, Leo, I have. Everyone within these walls and beyond has read it; don't try to steer the conversation this way."

"Which way?"

He gave him an unimpressed look. "Away from why I want to speak to you."

That made Leo stop, his expression the same as it had been just moments ago while dealing with the enraged man. But at least he didn't say anything else, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts.

But even then, he didn't know how to begin. Even then, it felt like some sort of a betrayal. Truth was that he didn't want to bring it up at first - at least not with Leo - but Shirley had convinced him otherwise. He wasn't even aware she knew - Roger must have told her - but in the end he took her advice. If Leo really were to be in some kind of trouble, it was better to nip it in the bud.

He took a breath.

"Where were you last Saturday?" He started out simple; hoping it will trick Leo into telling him more than he otherwise would.

"Last Saturday?" Leo frowned. "I don't remember. At the office?"

"Is that a question?"

"What?" He could see that Leo was growing steadily more uneasy, but he wasn't going to give up now. So he waited, and at least Leo answered. "I - no. I mean yes. Yes, I think I was at the office."

"No, you weren't." He crossed his arms. "You visited us, remember?"

"Oh." Leo's eyes seemed to brighten and grow dim at the same time. "Yes, I remember that. You didn't want me to be there."

"What are you saying?" It was his turn to frown. "Of course I wanted you to be there. I just said-"

"You said I should be at the office," Leo shot at him before he could finish, "so I went." He suddenly didn't look so unassuming anymore; his gaze sharp and posture rigid.

Carmen could feel himself getting defensive, too.

"Did you, Leo?" He took a step closer, returning his stare. "Did you really?"

"Darling, what's the fuss?" Leo didn't have the chance to answer as Roger approached them - Scott, Shirley, Kevin and Brian trailing closely behind. "It's not because of the reviews, is it?"

"No, it isn't," he said without taking his eyes off of Leo. "I was just asking Leo about his Saturday night."

"Oh, right!" Roger clasped his hands together as if he'd just told him they were discussing the latest Broadway gossip. Everyone turned to Leo expectantly. "Where have you been, dear?"

Leo let out something he supposed was meant to be a scoff, but it sounded more like he was choking on air; a telltale sign that he was nervous, which, in turn, made Carmen all the more suspicious.

"What the hell is this about?" he exclaimed in that same strained tone. "Why do my whereabouts concern you so much? Don't you trust me?"

All eyes were on Roger now, awaiting his verdict. But he didn't seem to realize that it was a question meant for him, and he looked to Carmen instead.

The focus shifted on him. _Did_ he trust Leo? Normally, yes, without a second thought. Did he trust him now? Of course not.

"Exactly, Leo. We don't trust you. Because we know where your office is; and it sure isn't anywhere near the Brooklyn Bridge." It felt wrong on all levels to be speaking to him in such a manner, but he left him no other choice. Sometimes, the only way to really get through to Leo was by intimidation. He didn't know where he had gotten the mindset that every serious question directed at him was some sort of a personal attack; that behind their every effort to get something out of him was an intention to humiliate him in some way. He didn't want to know, but that didn't erase the fact that Leo still guarded his privacy like his life depended on it.

"How do you know?" Leo asked, his breathing becoming somewhat disordered.

"Alright, listen." He tried a gentler tone, sensing his distress. "First of all, settle down. No one's trying to pounce on you, we're just-"

"How do you know?" he repeated, his voice getting louder. Carmen leaned back a little astounded, but kept his ground. "Did you follow me?"

He took a while to answer that one. "Let's say I happened to know the address."

For several long moments Leo simply looked at him without saying anything; looked at him with those big, imploring eyes. He was almost ready to give in and let him have his secrets to himself, but then something in Leo's face changed. He no longer looked scared or confused. Just deceived. "You took it," he simply said then.

The plainness of the statement made him somehow uneasy. "Took what?"

"Don't act like you don't know," he almost spat. "The paper with the address. You took something that was mine just like that. And yet I'm the bad one? What if it was something important?"

"I'll do you one better: Why don't you want Max to know about it?" Carmen paused. "About him?"

It seemed to be that question that sent Leo over the edge. Visibly blanching, he took him by the arm with more force than he'd expected from the ever-gentle man, pulling him off to the side.

"Could you keep your voice down?" he hissed, his demeanor back to panicked. "Why are you like this, anyway? You're acting as if I'd killed someone!"

Carmen scoffed, twisting his arm free. "No, Leo, _you're_ acting as if you'd killed someone. And quite frankly, I'm starting to think you have."

He knew he was getting prickly, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't the subtlest of people, so this speaking in riddles and endless hinting at things was enough to drive him up the wall.

Leo, on the other hand, looked like he was about to cry.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice much quieter now; much more like Leo. His persistence, too, seemed to be waning.

"I want-" he stepped closer, placing both hands on his shoulders to relax him- "I want to know who that man is and why are you keeping him a secret. If it really is nothing as you say - and I do want to believe you - then just tell me. Tell me honestly, and I swear I'll leave you alone."

"He's a friend," Leo answered after some deliberation, still somewhat irresolute. "Well - he's someone I know. I have for years."

"You have?" He let his hands fall from Leo's shoulders. The man had told him the same story that night - just a friend. Could it be true, after all?. "Oh. I just - I never noticed. I mean, I didn't know you had-"

"Friends?" Leo filled in for him, slight sarcasm lining his words. "I know. I can't believe it either."

"Leo-" he began, but Leo held up a hand.

"I've had a life before meeting Max too, you know? I just want to know someone who doesn't only talk about the theatre. Is it so bad of me to want company? Haven't I been alone enough?"

Carmen shook his head, his resolve crumbling. "You do have company; you have us."

"Yes, but you are-" he didn't finish, making a vague, flustered gesture with his hands.

"We are what, Leo?" he prompted, frustration flaring once more. He clenched his fists. "Too gay? Not fun anymore? Is that what you wanted to say?"

"What?" Leo exclaimed, the offense evident in his voice. "Why would I-"

He suddenly yelped, halting in his protestation. It took Carmen a moment or two to gather what happened, but once he did, he felt his stomach drop, filling up with cold unease.

Two arms encircled Leo from behind as he flinched sharply at the unexpected contact, but Carmen didn't dare to say or do anything. He just watched the scene unfold before him. Slowly, Leo turned, meeting the person's eyes. Alarm spread on his face then, but in that moment, the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and Leo had no choice but to ease into the embrace, reluctantly returning it.

When they finally let go of each other, for an instant, no one spoke. The team stood a step behind them, looking at Carmen, who was looking at Leo, who had his eyes on- "Perry?" he asked at last.

"Leo!" The man in question exclaimed without missing a beat, flashing him a bright smile. "You getting along? I've read the reviews; Taubman didn't disappoint, did he? Though I've expected more from Egan, I have to admit. Didn't you? Well, either way. Wanna talk about it over a drink?"

Leo stared at him the whole time, thunderstruck, not moving an inch. When he finally came to his senses, he glanced at Carmen only for a second before answering. "Oh, right. I mean, of course; to everything you said."

"Excellent," he continued in that same jovial tone, already taking hold of Leo's shoulder. He seemed to notice the team for the first time that moment, giving them a courteous smile. "Unless I'm interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Leo cut in. "We've discussed everything we needed to. Shall we?"

"Gentlemen," Perry - as Leo had called him - gave them a nod, his look lingering on Carmen for a second too long.

He felt the urge to say something then, but all words seemed to have left him.

Perry? Who the hell was Perry? He had introduced himself as Oliver.

What was going on?

Bur before he could react, they were already departing, leaving them more confused than before.

* * *

"I apologize for that entrance," Perry began as soon as they were seated at the bar. "I just wanted to save you from them. It looked like you were under attack."

"Oh, I was..." Leo laughed humorlessly, passing a hand down his face. "I think you know why."

"That I do," Perry nodded, already taking out a cigarette, "but I swear I had nothing to do with that. He found me himself. But you didn't tell them, did you?"

"About Marks?" He propped his chin up on his palm, staring ahead. "No, of course not. I don't need them giving me a thousand reasons as to why it is a bad idea - I can list them myself."

Perry snickered, waving a waiter over. "Don't you worry about that. Nothing good comes out of expecting the worst, anyway."

"Oh no, worrying works." Leo smiled weakly, watching the bourbon fill up his glass. "Most of the things I worry about never happen. That has to mean something, huh?"

"Now, that's fair," Perry chuckled once more and blew out a gust of smoke which twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles; every vice that Leo avoided all his life. But why should he avoid it now? Who was there to tell him no? The situation practically begged for a drink or two.

So, hesitating only a moment, he accepted the glass from Perry, holding it up with little ceremony.

Perry did the same, clicking their glasses together.

"To the night you'll never remember," he said.

"Let's hope so," Leo replied, coughing lightly as he took a sip. "Tell me, though. How did you get in here?"

"Well-" Perry gulped half the liquor down in one go- "that makes for quite an entertaining story."

"Lucky for you, I've got all night," he said smirking, for Perry's energy was infectious.

So he went on talking, never staying on one topic for too long, and soon, every word that came out of Perry's mouth sounded like the peak of comedy to him. But even though his glass kept refilling, he didn't feel much different, except for the few times that he found himself tipping in one direction through no fault of his own, so he compensated, but overcompensated and was tipping in the other direction instead. Perry kept laughing at that, and he laughed with him, for once not feeling self-conscious in the presence of so many people.

He also kept looking around, trying to spot someone, but who? Oh, Max! Maybe he should find him and tell him that he was doing fine. That the reviews didn't affect him as much as he probably thinks they have. Who cared about the critics, anyway? It wasn't as if the show had to close because of them, no? Yes, he should definitely tell Max that. Thinking of which-

"Never have I ever?"

He turned his head to Perry who spoke, and a split second later his vision followed. Funny. He turned his head once more, giggling when his surroundings lagged again.

"What?" He was finally able to focus on Perry, who looked at him quite amused.

"Never have I ever," he repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "One of us lists things we have never done and if you have, you drink."

"Oh." All concentration seemed to have left him, but he nodded. "Wanna start?"

"Okay, let's see. Never have I ever.." he rubbed his chin, "swindled the books? Besides Springtime, that is?"

He had to think hard for a second, willing his thoughts to organize enough to come to a conclusion, but finally he smirked, taking a deliberate sip from his drink.

"Oh, you lawbreaker," Perry laughed but kept his own drink where it was. "Was that at the firm still?"

"Mmhm," he affirmed, "for Max, the first day I met him. 2000 bucks or so. Just overlooked a decimal point, you know?"

"So the classic… got it." He winked at him. "Ah, and before I forget - can I sign the contract later?"

"Huh?"

"The accounting contract." He smiled at him. "Remember? Our arrangement? It's just that I still have some paperwork and legal things to sort out with Marks before I can officially look for other jobs, so-"

"Oh, sure." Leo waved his hand dismissively, fascinated anew by how the motion seemed to leave a trail in the air. "He's a prick."

"Word, my friend," Perry agreed, patting him on the back. He nodded towards the bar. "Another one?"

Leo, feeling confident in his newfound sense of lightness, saw no reason to pass the offer up. There was almost a faint buzzing feeling in his core body as he finished something he assumed was scotch; not that he could tell the difference between that and plain whiskey. By that point he was somewhat able to acknowledge that he should probably stop there, but his mouth felt so dry. A small glass of wine to flush down the harsh burn of strong alcohol couldn't make much of a difference, especially as he was never able to get past tipsy.

But apparently, he could.

Maybe it was that one more drink, or perhaps just enough time for him to metabolize that last one, but from that point on, everything seemed to spiral rapidly out of control. His limbs all felt very loose; his head heavier than normal. The careless mood started wearing off as well, his thoughts shifting back to reality, no matter how altered it felt.

He felt the need to get up. He needed to find Max.

"Hey, I don't think you should-" Perry started a second too late.

As soon as he stood, the entire universe seemed to spin around him in a decidedly malicious manner, and it took about all the mental concentration he could muster to focus on a single object in front of him. Or a person. A person?

He saw a flash of silver glimmer in the crowd. Silver. Chains.

"Carmen?" he muttered at what he believed to be a low volume, but apparently was enough to make everyone turn towards him. Including Carmen.

He could see - or guess - that he was moving towards him, though it was quite hard to tell which direction was down. Not that he needed to worry; he'd probably be going that direction soon.

"Leo, what the..." He grabbed him by the shoulders the moment he reached him. He could see him struggling to keep his balance, and he knew he was struggling to keep it. "Jesus Christ, are you hammered?"

"'Am not…" He shook his head, which just made the spinning worse.

"Oh yes, you are," Carmen almost laughed, "you're completely and utterly wasted."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just frowned, holding onto Carmen.

"Wait." Carmen suddenly stopped looking amused, glancing over his shoulder. "Is that _his_ fault? How much did you have, you moron?"

Again, he didn't know how to answer, but someone did for him.

"Hey, I didn't know he'd get drunk that fast."

"You didn't _know_?" Carmen exclaimed, his pitch climbing with each word. "You've known him 'for years' and you didn't _know_ that Leo doesn't drink?"

He heard a snicker behind him. "Apparently he does, buddy."

At that, Carmen lunged forward, fuming, but he was somehow able to hold him back.

"Stop," he managed to say, "It isn't… I mean, he didn't…"

"Really, Leo?" he interrupted. "Is that who you spend time with? I'm telling you, this is gonna backfire. Whatever you're doing; it's gonna backfire and there will be no one to help you."

"You don't like Max either!" he protested, pushing him back, though his hands didn't work quite as he told them to.

"That's beside the point," Carmen snapped. "I admit that I think you could do better, but-"

"Better?" he asked, appalled. "What _better_? This… that's as good as it gets, Carmen!"

"I'm not gonna argue with you when you can barely stand," he said coldly. "But let me tell you this: Keep doing what you're doing and you're gonna ruin the only good thing that's ever happened to you."

He felt his frustration flare at that notion. The only good thing? Was that all his life was worth? Screw him. He knew nothing. Stemming his body against Carmen with all his might, he stumbled backwards, prepared to fall.

But instead of a hard impact with the ground, his back made contact with someone's chest. He instinctively leaned into it, twisting around to identify the person. And even though his vision was starting to get spotty, he recognized the face immediately.

"Max!" Both relief and fear surged through him when he saw his undefiable expression, but he clung onto him nonetheless.

"Why are you shouting?" Max looked at him bemused, then added, "Wait a minute. Are you-"

"He is," Carmen chimed in, his stare burning through Perry. "Ask him about it."

Max raised his eyebrows, turning to where Carmen gestured. "And you are?"

"Oh, my manners." Perry hopped off the bar stool, extending a hand towards Max. "Oliver Peregrine, your new accountant. At your service, Mr Bialystock."

Leo could no longer keep up with what was happening.

He looked to Carmen. He wore the same hateful stare, looking ready to protest, to tell Max everything.

He looked to Max. His expression remained neutral as he took Perry's hand, shaking it with uncharacteristic passivity.

That instant his eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then he saw nothing at all. He was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space his heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in his ears, alongside fading voices telling him to respond. He blocked them out.

Feeling in his body drained away until finally all grew quiet.

* * *

_**A/N:** _ _Whew, that was a detailed one. Please note that I have no idea whatsoever what being drunk feels like, so I guess this is a hit or miss! Well, lemme know in the comments :DD Until next time x_


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